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GREATER THAN KING 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 
(After Portrait by .Sir Peter I,ely.) 



GREATER THAN KING, 
A ROMANTIC PLAY IN 
FOUR ACTS^BY HENRY 
RAEDER '.'. '.'. '.'. '.', 



A 



AS PRESENTED AT THE 
DEARBORN THEATRE, 
CHICAGO, MARCH 17 
TO APRIL 13, 1901 :: :: 



L- - 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CON6RES8, 
Two CoPiM Reonvto 

APR. 10 1901 

COPYRIOMT OtTRY 

CLASS^ XXa N*. 
COPY 8. 






Copyrighted 1901. 

All rights reserved. Performances for- 
bidden and right of presentation > 
reserved. 



A PAGE OF THE PROGRAM. 

DEARBORN THEATRE 



W, W, TILLOTSON, MMnagtr, 



THIRD SEASON 

Dearborn Stock Company. 

Beginning Sunday, March 17, 1901, 

GREATER THAN KING 

cA ^Rpmantic J^tay in Four cActs, 
by HENRY %AEDER 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Sir John Maynard, A Royalist. ...C has. W. Terris 

Richard Maynard, His Son Edward Mackay 

Father Ambrose, A Jesuit Hugh Ford 

Duncan, A Follower of Cromwell... Gardner Crane 
Exodus Treat, Cromwell's Secretary, Wm. H. Evarts 

Morris, Servant to John Maynard Wm. Dii^i^s 

Peter, Servant at Barbara's Inn... Harry O. Stubbs 

Lord Richmond W. H. Engi^ish 

John, Servant to Richard Maynard, James A, RusSEiyi* 

Servant to Cromwell Knox I. Giffin 

IvADY Cromwei.1., Cromwell's Wife. Madge Gordon 
Ewzabeth CromweIvI., Her Daughter, Mamie Ryan 

Lady Ci^aire Grace Reai.s 

Anne, Sir John Maynard 's Daughter 

Nannette Francis 

Barbara, Keeper of the Inn Louise Rial, 

Courtiers, Ladies, Serv^ts, Soldiers, Etc. 



SAMUEI^ M. FORREST, Stagre Director. 



Scenery by BUSS & SHEPPARD. 



Dearborn Theatre Orchestra under the direction of 
Mr. Geo. Kalbitz. 



GREATER THAN KING. 



AC T I. 

Scene: The hall of the country seat of Sir John May- 
nard. A door on each side of stage in front; fire- 
place at center-back; to the right of same large 
window, and to the left of same main entrance. 
Table with chairs at right side of stage; large arm- 
chair at left side of stage ; sideboard and other fur- 
niture. 

Time: Late afternoon, July 2, 1644. \^As curtain rises 
no one is on stage ; a light thunder shower is blowing 
up, which slams one of the casement windows. Morris, 
an old servant, stooping^ enters hall from Left arid goes to 
windozvs and closes them. As he turns, a youug lady, 
the daughter of the house, e?tters from Right.~\ 

Anne : \_A sweet young girl about seventeen years old, oj 
delicate form and refined features.~\ I thought I 
heard a noise; did you hear it Morris? 

Morris : It was only the casement blowing to my lady ; a 
sudden storm has come up, and surely we need the 
rain. It has been a very dry s,QSiSon^\_goi7ig to the 
fire-place and then^ thinking for a moment^ though 
I have known drier. 

Anne : \_At window watching the storm; the rain beats 
against the window ; low., distant thunder is heard.^ 
How the rain beats down ; have you had word from 
the village to-day Morris? 



lo Greater TJian Ki7ig. 

Morris : \_Comes to front of stage with poker and tongs ^ 
with which he gesticulate s.'\ Yes, my lady; they 
do say that the siege of York has been lifted ; that 
the Earl of Leven has fled and Prince Rupert is in 
hot pursuit. There will be great fighting soon. 
The Parliament soldiers will have their fill when 
Prince Rupert once gets at them ; but there be those 
who say that Lord Fairfax and Lord Leven be 
mighty powerful, and a man called Oliver Crom- 
well, a canting wretch, has been drilling his men 
with guns and prayers until they know not whether 
they be soldiers or preachers, but Lord! 'Twill do 
them no good, for Pve seen the king's men, and a 
finer lot afoot and ahorse never marched through the 
country, and 1 have seen many soldiers in my time — 
but one should not be too certain — 

Anne: \_Who has been busy at table. ^ But have you 
no real news Morris? Have you not heard from. 
Richard? 

Morris: Not a word. There be those who think that 
might should not make right, and that' the ancient 
charter of King John has been violated by King 
Charles, and that the Parliament will not bide 
with it. 

Anne: \_Throughout pays little attentioji to Morris' talk, 
but appears absorbed, nervous and anxious ] I know 
naught of these things; but this war, what suffer- 
ing it will bring ! [ Goes to window and opens same.'] 

Morris: I have a cousin who be in London and hears 
much talk in the coffee-houses about the Roundheads 
and Hampden and Cromwell and others, but I think 
the king be right, for^he is put in authority by 
Almighty (jod , and it certainly would seem — 

Anne: {^Interrupting Morris' endless talk. She has been 
at the windozv listening, has opened the window and 



Act I. ir 

the distant boom of camion is heard. The rain has~ 
almost ceased.~\ Morris, Morris, listen! I hear a 
strange sound, it certainly is not thunder. 

Morris: [Goes to window very excitedly.^ It be 
cannon, I know it, I heard it afore. Listen ! it sounds 
as from Long Marston. 

Sir Maynard: [Enters from Right and goes to win- 
dow. He is a Tnan sixty years of age, and though 
som,ewhat querulous of soldierly bearing7\ Do you. 
hear that? It's the sound of cannon, a battle is on. 
Oh, were I but a score years younger, I would be in 
the thick of it! But Richard will uphold the ancient 
valor of our house; we are a fighting family and 
he is a strong and eager lad. Listen! The firing is 
becoming heavier. Ah, a curse on these stiffened 
joints. [Sits in arm-chair Left. Morris goes to win- 
doiv and during following stands listening^ 

Anne: [Standing near her father. A^ But think father 
of the dead and wounded, the homes that will be 
desolate, and Richard, Richard, my brother. Oh, I 
cannot bear to think of it! [Breaks doivn crying.^ 

Sir Maynard: Be quiet child, a man may fight many 
battles without serious hurt. Your grandfather 
fought in Flanders and lived to sit beside his fire- 
side, his age fourscore and more, to often tell about 
it and I your father have seen men fall and lived 
to regret this cursed weakness. At the worst death 
on the battlefield is better than to slowly rot at home. 

Anne: Oh, but the horror of this war! Englishmen 
face Englishmen, brother against brother, father 
against son. 

Sir Maynard: There was no other way. They 
would make a slave of a king with their palaver- 
ings, so King Charles raised his standard and loyal 



12 Greater Than Kin 



men flocked to it as they always must. [Anne has 
gone to window.] 
Anne: I hear the firing still. Oh, the suspense is un- 
bearable I Go Morris, send to the village and see 
whether there is any news. 

Morris: \^At window. '\ Someone is entering at the 
gate — it is Father Ambrose. 

Sir Maynard: \Going to window.'] Go, fetch him 
Morris; he may bear news, though it cannot be 
much as yet. \Mqrris goes out maiji entrance.] The 
storm is clearing and the sun is setting in a blood-red 
sky. Look, Anne, how the poplars stand against 
it like grim sentinels. 

Anne: How fresh and balmy the air is after the 
shower. Oh, how can men kill each other! \Only 
an occasional sound of cannon is now heard. Anne 
kneels at chair Left.] Oh, Virgin Mary, Mother 
of God ! Save my brother, save him and I will 
burn thee many candles. \She is interrupted by en- 
trance of Morris with Father Ambrose at main entrance. 
An?ie rises, then kneels for benediction.] 

Sir Maynard: Ah! Father Ambrose, what news, 
what news? \^Morris exits at mai?i entrance^ 

Ambrose: Peace be with you! A man just from Long 
Marston says the armies face each other at the moor. 
It was not expected that the fight would be on to- 
day, but the neighboring people are deserting their 
homes in wild panic for fear of the victors, be they 
who they may. The siege of York is raised, the 
Roundheads are in full retreat. Ah, 'tis but reckless 
folly to risk all upon the fortunes of battle. \^Goes 
back to fireplace. ] 

Sir Maynard: [ Stan di?ig at table.] There can be no 
risk, and how else would you put down this re- 
bellion? 



Act I. 



13 



Ambrose: \_Leavi71g fireplace. '\ I would strike at the 
leaders of it. I would have the chief traitors re- 
moved ; that man Cromwell would be the first to go. 

Anne : Oh ! You mean that you would have them 
assassinated ? 




Act I.— Father Ambroj5E and Anne. 

Ambrose: Do not use such strong words, my dear lady. 
\_A7me goes to window.'\ 

Sir Maynard: \^Crossi?ig to Left.~\ Murder is murder 
whatever you call it, and breeds murder. Would 
you make us a nation of cut-throats? 



14 Greater TJian King. 

Ambrose: On the contrary 'tis you who would plunge 
the whole nation into bloody conflict, to burn, to 
ravage, to kill. I would have a few men executed, 
peace is restored and thousands of lives are saved. 

Sir Maynard: And who would remove the leaders? 
Who would be their executioner? 

Ambrose : Every public man has his enemy, some man 
who thirsts to avenge a private wrong, fancied or 
real, and values his life at naught in comparison. 
Find 'that man and there is your executioner. 

Sir Maynard: But why select so obscure a person as 
Cromwell as the one to be removed? 

Ambrose: \^Back of table. ^ Because he of all men will 
be heard from. I have studied him. He possesses 
uncouth strength coupled with cunning, a singular 
combination of pious fanaticism and common sense. 
He is by far the most powerful man of his party — 
the Puritan party — therefore would I strike him 
down. [Goes to windoiv, stands listeniiig.^ 

Anne: \^To Ambrose.^ I do not understand about the 
quarrels and charges between king and parliament, 
but I love Richard — [goi?ig to her father^ father, 
we have always been playmates, and were never 
parted until Richard went to London to become a 
soldier. 'Twould break my heart should harm be- 
fall him. 

SiK Maynard: [Taking Anne's hands in his. ^ Yes, 

yes, I know. 

Anne: H.i is but a youth of nineteen and to think of 
him in danger, father, it is more than I can bear. 
[Crying.^ 

SiH Maynard: Be quiet, child, or you'll make a soft 
hearted old fool of me. [// is growing dark grad- 
ually. ] 



Act I. 15 

Anne: Oh, how long will it be before we know? 

Sir Maynard: No one can tell, but I venture that the 
traitors are in full flight now. 

Anne: But to wait and wait without news, how can 
I bear it! 

Ambrose: \^At wiiidow.^ Someone is riding up the 
road in hot haste. \^An?ie and Sir May?iard ru?i to 
window and all look out.'\ 

Sir Maynard: Who is it, Anne, who is it? Your 
young eyes should recognize him. 

Anne : 'Tis too dark. He is crossing the bridge at the 
lodge now. 

Ambrose: He rides fast, a bearer of good news. 

Sir Maynard: Now he is hidden by the poplars, he 
will be here immediately. 

Morris : \^E?iters quickly at main e?itra?ice, all go to 
hint excitedly.^ Richard's man John is coming up 
the road waving his hat. Ah, he brings good news 
of victory, I warrant ye. But we must not be too 
certain of it. I have known of instances — [Noise 
outside. Enter John at Tnaiii entrance ^ followed by sev- 
eral servants, male and female. Other servants e7iter 
at other doors. He is dusty and disheveled a?id out of 
breath. He sits in chair placed for him at center of 
stage by Ambrose. All surround him, but at first he 
ca?mot speak. A servant lights ca?idles. ] 

Sir Maynard: The news, man, the news. 

Ambrose : Speal^, man, speak. 

Anne: Richard, is he well? 

Jokn : [Nods head and gasps.^ A drink, a drink. 
[Morris rushes to sideboard, fills a mug and hafids 
it to John. ^ 



1 6 Greater TJiaii Ki7ig. 

Anne : And now for the love of God speak, man ! 
Richard is alive and well? 

John : Ha, ha, how they ran, the canting hypocrites. 
They scattered and we among them. 

Annk: [^Interrupti?ig.'] But Richard, Richard. 

John: Is safe, at least he was when I last saw him. 
Ride for home, John, he said and carry the glorious 
news. Ah, it was rare sport to see the churls bite 
the dust. 

Sir Maynard: And my son in the thick of it, no 
doubt. 

John: \^Rises.'\ Such fighting I never saw before. 
We had but to rush among them and they in panic 
made slight resistance. 

Sir Maynard: Richard was no laggard, I warrant 
you. 

John: 'Twas all over in a few minutes. Victory as- 
sured, I came on as fast as I could, but at the South- 
ern creek the bridge was down so I went beyond 
by the ford, else had 1 been here before. 

Sir Maynard: Morris, Morris, pour out the ale, 
we'll drink to the king's health and perdition to the 
Roundheads. \_To A?me, taki7ig]ier to the door Right.'] 
Anne, my girl, you must be tired, go to your room 
now child and rest. 

Anne: I will go father, but call me at once should 
there be more news of Richard. \_Exits Right. Ale 
is brought and distributed^ 

Sir Maynard: I drink to the king. King Charles! 
May he be victorious over his enemies and reign 
long over his loyal subjects. 

Ambrose: And I to the confusion of parliament and of 
those who prate of their rights and privileges, and 



ActL 17 

above all perdition to that man Cromwell. \^All 
drink. Noise is heard outside^ 

Sir MayxVard: What is that ? \^All listeii. Enter 
Richard at main entrance in dilapidated condition, his 
whole appearajice speaking of despair. His sword 
falls from his hand; Father Ambrose places it on table. 
RicJiard is a youth of nhieteefi with smooth face and red 
hair ; he wears the dress of a cavalier officer.'] 

All: Richard! [Richard sifiks i7ito chair, Ce?Lter.~\ 

Sir Maynard: Speak, speak, what has happened? 

Richard: I fought to the last; I tried to stop . the 
flight. 'Twas of no use. 

Sir Maynard: \_T2crnifig to serz'ants.] Leave us, all 
of you. \_Serva?its exit at differ e?it doors. Sir May- 
nard turns to Richard^ Now speak boy, in God's 
name speak, how and why came you here ? 

Richard: [Rises supporting himself on chair.] I came 
by the rear gate and the garden ; they were pursu- 
ing me, but I managed to elude them. 

Sir Maynard: Pursuing ! Elude ! A fugitive ! 
John told us of a victory. 

Richard: I know, I know, that was at first. We rode 
at them and scattered them. It seemed like hunting 
the hares to see them run for cover. 

Ambrose: And you gave chase ? 

Richard: Aye, that we did with a right goodwill; 
and Prince Rupert, he was here and there and 
everywhere and his life-guards with him. 

Sir Maynard: [Impatiently^ We have heard all 
that, but what then, what then.? 

Ambrose; Sir, let him tell it his own way. 



1 8 Greater Than King. 

Anne: \_E7 iters Right. Embraces Richard.^ Oh Rich- 
ard, Richard, you are safe. Thank God, thank God! 

Sir Maynard: [Taking her aivay from Richarcf\ Be 
still child, he brings bad news. 

Ambrose: Go on Richard, you but try our patience. 

Richard: We swept across the field and the enemy's 
hosts scattered as before a storm. 

Sir Maynard: But you have once told all that, and 
then — 

Richard: But when we returned from the mad pur- 
suit we found the field in possession of the enemy. 
Cromwell's men held it, and Cromwell himself at 
the head of his men shouting: "Truth and peace" 
and "upon them, upon them," and we with the cry 
"God and the king" flung our horse at their ranks. 
But they, great God, had captured and turned our 
own guns upon us. [He tunis toward- back of s' age 
despairingly. Ambrose replaces chair at table.'] 

SrR Maynard: Yes, yes, but what then, what then — 

Richard: [Fiir/ii/tg.'] Rupert's guards fought like 
mad men, but they might as well have flung them- 
selves against walls of stone. For there stood Crom- 
well's soldiers and would not budge and our men fell 
before their fire, and then on they came, like a tidal 
wave, and pushed us before them. We rallied again 
and again, but still on they came. We gathered for 
a final blow and our hor^e swept forward, growing 
in power as they threw themselves upon the foe. 
'Twas all in vain, we could not shake their iron front 
and then — then — 

Sir Maynard: Well, well — 

Richard: All fled. [ Tlmm 's himself in chair at table.] 

Ambrose. [Back of table.] Boy, you are mad I Didn't 
John just bring the news of victory.^ 



Act I. , 19 

SirMaynard: Fled? And you with them? A 
curse on such cowardice. Oh, that a son of mine 
should turn his back upon the enemy and live to tell 
it! 

Anne : {^Runmng to Sir May/iard.'] Oh father, father, 
Richard fought bravely. 

Sir Maynard: A stain upon our house; the king de- 
feated and a Maynard who fought for him lives to 
tell the story ! 

Ambrose: Be reasonable Sir, the boy has but won his 
spurs. He lives to do battle again for his king. 

Morris: \_Entcrs hastily at 7nai?i entrance.'] Troopers 
are coming through the garden gate. I fear they 
be enemies. 

Anne: Oh, Richard they are pursuing you, you must 
hide quickly. 

Sir Maynard: [His entire manner changed^ Yes 
boy, quickly to the chamber under the tov/er. 

Richard: No father, I will meet them here. I will 
show you that I am no coward. 

Sir Maynard: My boy, my boy forgive me; 'twas 
but the irritation of the moment, the sudden dis- 
appointment that caused my hasty speech. Resist- 
ance would be folly. 

Anne: Oh I beg you, I beg you, Richard, lose not a 
moment! [ Sir Maynard and Anne are forcing Rich- 
ard toivard door Left.'] 

Sir Maynard: Begone my boy; I know thou art 
brave; your country will need strong arms like 
thine. Make haste. 

Richard: But I cannot leave you all unprotected. 

Ambrose: They will not harm us alone. But you 
here, their vengeance will fall on us alb 



20 Greater Than King. 

Sir Maynard: {^Noise is heard outside^ Quick Rich- 
ard, they are coming. [Richard exits in haste 
Left followed by Morris. The servants enter again, 
badly frightened, and cower to Right of stage 7\ 

Sir Maynard: {Taking Anne toward door RigJit7\ Go 
to your room Anne. 

Anne: No father, no; my place is here at your side. 
\_Lotid 7ioise heard oictside. Duncan a?id four soldiers 
enter viole?itly at ntaiji entrance. Diuican is a man 
about forty -five years old, a rough sergeant of Crom- 
weWs horse ; he and his men show in their appearance 
the struggle of battle they have passed through.'^ 

First Soldier: Never fear, we will find him. 

Second Soldier : Here they all ar^i. 

Duncan: \To Sir Maynard, tructdently . ] Sir! 

Sir Maynard: Sir to you, and who are you? 

Duncan : We be of Cromwell's horse— a fugitive from 
Marston is hiding here, a damned Papist Deliver 
him to us. 

Sir Maynard: If he be here, take him. 

Duncan : By Jehovah we will, and if we have to 
smoke him out. 

-Ambrose: [Facing Duncan.^ We are in your power, 
we have made no resistance, we are peaceable — 

Duncan: Be still, servant of anti-Christ, or I'll tear 
out thy smooth tongue for thee. Where is the man? 
\_Going to door Right and of>cni?ig it violoitly, then 
returning, sees sword on table ^ Ah! here - his 
sword — he is in the house. Speak, sir, is he 
here? 

Sir Maynard: You have just said so. 

Duncan: [Crossing to his soldiers.'] Then deliver 
him to us, or l^y all that is holy I will — 



Act I. 21 

Sir Maynard : [Defiantly.'] You will, you knave, 
what will you? You dare to threaten me and I — 

Anne: \_G0i71g to her father. 1 Father, father, don't 
anger them. 

Ambrose : I beg of you men — 

Duncan : [Drawi?i,g his pistol.'] If it were not for thy 
white locks I'd — 

Sir Maynard: Enough of this. {Looking at Dun- 
can^ It seems to me you are the soldier once in my 
regiment whom I did severely chastise for dis- 
graceful conduct. 

Duncan : Yes, I am that man ; I still bear the scars 
of— 

Anne: \_Clinging to Sir May?iard.] Father, father, 
what are you doing? Remember we are in their 
power. 

Sir Maynard: [^To D?{ficafi.] Go now, leave this 
place before you disgrace it. 

Duncan: \_l7i ferocious a?iger.] Seize him. We'll set- 
tle the old score now. Seize him men. \_Sir May- 
7iard stands betzveen his people and Dnncan. He lias 
lost all appearance of zveakness or age and stands be- 
fore the soldiers a grand old ma?i.] 

Sir Maynard: Stand back! [ Du7ican , as soldiers hesi- 
tate, roughly pushes A7ine aside. The soldiers the7i 
seize Sir May/iard. 

Anne: \_To Du7ica?i.] Oh, spare him ! spare him! 

Duncan: And now my fine bird with ruffled feathers, 
we will know where that traitor son of yours is, or 
by the eternal God your life shall answer for his. 
\^A7i7ie throzvs herself i7i front of Du7ica7i, is roughly 
throzv7i doiv7i by hi7n ajul falls fa.inti/ig to the floor. 
The soldiers lead out Sir Maynard, followed by Dun- 



2 2 Greater Than King, 

can and then by all the servants, frightened and 
zvhispering.'] 

Ambrose: {^Raising Anne's head.'] Poor girl, poor 
girl — they cannot mean to kill him! Morris ! 
Morris ! Help— your mistress! \_Morris enters from 
Left.] Here Morris, take care of your mistress. 
{^Ambrose exits qidckly. Morris kneels and holds 
A?tne's head on his lap.] 

Morris: My poor, poor lady; come, come they have 
gone. They will not hurt you. Oh, that I should 
live to see this. 

Richard: \_Entering quickly.] Have they gone? 
\_Sees Morris a ?id Anne.] Anne, they have killed 
her? 

Morris: No, no it is only a swoon. 

Richard: Thank God. [Richard and Morris place 
Anne in ann-chair, Richard looking aboiit^ Where is 
my father ? 

Morris: I don't know. I was out. When I came 
back Father Ambrose was hera with her ladyship. 
He left a moment ago. \^One shot is Jieard^ Richard 
goes to windozu. ] " 

Richard: What was that ? {They listen. Father 
A/nbrose enters. Richard sees him.] Speak man, 
where is my father ? [Ambrose is silent.] Where 
is he ? I must to him. 

Am R hose: [Raising his hands ] No, no. 

Richard: Would you have me leave him at the mercy 
of those ruffians ? [Struggles zvith Ambrose who 
shakes him off.] 

Amhrose: ♦ Stop. It is too late. 

Richard: Too late — They have 



Act I. 23 

Ambrose : Yes, he would not betray you and then 

God pity you my son. 

Richard: \_Strugglwgbeiween tears and anger, no hero- 
ics and boyish zvithal.'] I'll after thenri. I'll have 
their cowardly lives. Oh, had I but known I 

would rather have died than Oh father, 

my father — I'll follow them and strike down the 
murderous cut- throats. \_Taking sivord fro?n table. '\ 

Ambrose: 'Twere useless, they are five to one. 

Richard: I would sell my life dearly. 

Ambrose: No my son, you must not do this, 'twould 
serve no end. 

Richard: What would you have me do ? 

Ambrose: Let your vengeance fall on him who com- 
mands these cut- throats. \_The?i impressively but 
not tJieatric ally. ^^ Strike down Cromwell. 

end of act I. 




ACT II. 

Time: Ten years later. A day in snmmer. 

5cene: Court of a Country Inn near Huntingdon. Inn 
on Right, stable on Left of stage, hedge at rear 
with opening center; view of country beyond. [^As 
curtain rises there is heard the noise of a quarrel 
inside of inn. Then^ suddenly .^ a drunken ?nan is 
shot out from the ?nain door of the inn as if f red from 
a catapult. Barbara appears in main door of inn. 
Barbara is a wofnan cast in a large mould., strong., 
capable and warm-hearted Peter^ a loutish serv- 
ing man., enters from rear and stands sheepishly 
looking at the man who was ejected.~\ 

Barbara: Out with thee for a drunken vagabond, and 
don't thee show thy face within these walls again. 
Home to thy good woman and children to whom 
thou'rt a lasting disgrace. Now be gone. \^Ma?i. 
exits. To Peter :^ Be spry Peter. \_She is arrang- 
ing tables, one Right and one Left and placing chair s.'\ 

Peter: It is always "Be spry," and ^'Here Peter" 
and "There Peter." 

Barbara: What be thee muttering to thyself? 

Peter: I be saying how fine the weather be for the 
harvest. 

Barbara: It sounded more like thee were grumbling 
as usual. 

Peter: {Walking about 7^ And it is up early and it is 
up late, and would ye expect a man to be soft man- 



26 Greater Than King. 

nered and say : " By your leave lady," and " It please 
you lady," and me the only man about the house 
since master died. 

Barbara: Now stop thy everlasting talk and get thy 
work done. Thou art but the fraction of a man, if 
it be manly to do one's work honestly and well 
and without grumbling. 

Peter: Well, well, better a master I say than a mis- 
tress who knows not what a man's work be. 

Barbara: Go to the stable and make ready for the 
traveler's horse; there's man's work for thee. {^Bar- 
bara takes Peter by ear and leads him toward stable. 
Peter sloivly goes into stable. As he passes out E iza- 
betlis head is seen above the hedge at rear.'] 

Elizabeth: \_A slender girl of eighteen, fidl of life and 
spirits^ a thorough madcap with a soul capable of deep 
feeling.] Pst. [Hides behind hedge.] 

Barbara: [^Looks about and sees nothi?ig.] What 
might that be? 

Elizabeth: Pst. [Hides agai7i.] 

Barbara : Ah ! It surely can be only Bet, the little 
minx. \_Aloud.] A plague on people that go 
around bothering honest folk with their pranks in- 
stead of staying at home and playing with their 
dolls, the hussies. 

Elizabeth: [Enters from reaf^ laughing a7id running 
to Barbara.] Oh, thou wicked, scolding, dear old 
nursie. I will stay at home and play with my 
dollies and never come to see such a cross old nursie 
again. [Peter enters, looks on open-?nouthed.] 

Barbara : [Trying to seize Elizabeth^ who evades her, she 
rims after her and finally catches her.] Ah, now I 
have you. 



Act II. 



27 



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Act II. — Petrr and Elizabeth. 

Peter : Haw, haw. 

Barbara: What be thee doing there, lazybones, be- 
gone or I will — \^T]ireatens Peter ^ 

Elizabeth: Don't be hard on Peter, he is my-sweet- 
heart and is going to take me to the Fair. Art thou 
not, Peter? 

Peter: Haw, haw. 

Barbara : A nice figure he would cut, such a fine gen- 
tleman. \_Seizes a broom and chases Peter who runs 
off at back.'] [^Barbara mops forehead with apro7i.'\ 



28 Greater Than King. 

Elizabeth: \^LaiLghs.'\ Now, nursie dear, thou hast 
got so warm ; we musn't lose our tempers; it isn't 
good for us. 

Barbara: Sit down, you naughty child. \^F7ishes Eliza- 
beth into chair at table Left.~\ Stop teaing one who 
is too good to you by far. And now tell me what 
new mischief you have been put to. 

Elizabeth: [Rises, with animation.] I have had such 
a wild ride on Hector; and coming here we took to 
the long meadow and Hector, full of life from his 
long rest, flew like the wind. 

Barbara: I tremble when I think of your riding. I 
fear an accident some day. Does your mother ap- 
prove of this? 

Elizabeth: Oh, mother is always away in Lon- 
don; she is too busy with foreign ambassadors to 
think of me and so I can run away to my dear old 
Barbara. {Takes Barbara's face between her hands ^ 

Barbara : Now, away with you and your compliments. 

Elizabeth: My father and mother and others will be 
here in about an hour. They rest here on their 
way to London. I begged my father to let me go 
also but he would not listen. 

Barbara: And a wise man he; you arc better off at 
home at Huntingdon. 

Elizabeth: I think I like it best there myself. 

Barbara: Well, if the great Cromwell, as the folks 
call your father now, be coming with his train, we 
must make ready for they will want refreshment. 
{Peter is seen standing back of hedge looking up the 
road^ 

Elizabeth: I'll help thee, nursie. 

Barbara: No, no; 'tis no work for a lady. 



Act 11. 29 

Elizabeth : If thou talk'st to me thus, never will I come 
to see thee again. 

Peter : Someone be coming down the road. 

Elizabeth: Quick, now, an apron and we'll be ready 
in a trice. [Takes apron from Barbara. Barbara 
chases ker.^ 

Barbara: Give me back my apron. 

Elizabeth: No — no — no — [Bot/i go to rear. Eliza- 
beth sta7ids 071 beiicli close to hedge. ] 

Barbara: Who might it be? It be too early for the 
great folks. 

Elizabeth: A gentleman and a lady riding close to- 
gether. 

Barbara: Do you know them? 

Elizabeth: No, the gentleman is young and hand- 
some and the lady is resting against his shoulder, 
who'd blame her! [^Jumps down from bench and 
comes forward^ 

Barbara : Go, Peter, hold the horses and help the 
guests alight. {Turning to Elizabeth.^ Now dearie 
you must away before you are seen. 

Elizabeth: No, I am not going; they will think me 
the bar-maid, and I do want to see the young lady — 
and the young gentleman, too, for that matter. 

Barbara: I beg of you dear lady, go. 

Elizabeth: No. [ Stamping foot. ] 

Barbara: Elizabeth! 

Elizabeth: No. [ Stamping foot. ] 

Barbara: Dear Betty, please go. 

Elizabeth: It is no use, nursie, I am going to stay. 
Thou canst take the young lady into the house and 



30 Greater TJian Khig. 

serve her, I shall wait here on the young gentleman, 
he's to my liking. 

Barbara: You are too hearlstrong for me; I trust no 
harm may come of it; a young lady to be masquer- 
ading as a bar-maid can bring no good, I vow. 
{^Enter Richard supporting Attnip. Richard looks fully 
ten years older, he zvears mustache and small chin 
beard. He is jnuch weather-browned. Anne is ma- 
turer and looks very tired. Elizabeth stands at hedge 
looking i?ite7ifly at Richard ] 

Anne: I am so tired, so tired, Richard, I can go no 
farther. 

Richard: Dear Anne, thou shalt go no farther; ah, 
here is the hostess. \_To Barbara.'] We have come 
far and her ladyship needs rest; will you show us to 
a room that she may lie down while you prepare re- 
freshment. \_Peter enters, sta?tds stupidly stari?ig.'] 

Barbara: Poor, dear lady, a little rest and then a* good 
meal will make her strong again. This way, sir. 
\_Goes toivard main door of i/in.'] 

Anne: Thank you, good woman; and thank thee, dear 
Richard. I am much trouble to thee. 

Richard: Thou art very tired, lean firmly on me, 
remember thou dost not weigh more than a feather's 
weight and — {fChey enter main door of i?in ivith 
Barbara. ] 

Elizabeth : [ To Peter.] Peter, I am the serving-maid, 
do you understand ? 

Peter: [ Stupidly puzzled- ] No, your ladyship, I can - 
not say I do. 

Elizabeth : VV'ell, I am going to play the maid, and if 
one asks you who I be, you say, "That's Bet, the 
serving maid" Do you understand now? 



Act IL 31 

Peter: \^Doiibtfully.'\ Yes. 

Elizabeth: What do you understand? 

Peter: If anybody asks, I am to say you be playing 
that you be Bet, the serving maid. 

Elizabeth: Oh, you stupid. \_Shaki?ig Peter.'] You are 
to say I be the serving-maid. 

Peter: But you ben't. Haw-haw. 

Elizabeth: \_Imitati?ig Peter.'] I know I ben't, but is 
good Peter so honest that he can't tell a little lie for 
my sake? 

Peter: Ah, your ladyship wants to deceive the gen- 
tleman to believe that you be really the maid. Haw- 
haw. 

Elizabeth: What are you laughing at, you fool? 

Peter: He must be a stupid who could take you for a 
common wench. Haw-haw. 

Elizabeth: \^Iniitati?ig Peter.] Haw haw ; I will see 
to that, only don't you betray me. 

Peter : No, your ladyship. \^Richard is seen entei'ing 
f:om main door of inn.] 

Eiizabeth: [ Seeing Richard. ] Hush. 

Richard: \_To Peter.] Here, my man, bring me a 
mug of ale and be quick about it. {^Peter is going., 
t!ien stops and remains watching the scene.] 

E L I z A B E T H : [ Stepping for-xard zvith a courtesy. ] I w i 1 1 
serve you sir and you are willing. 

Richard: {Without looking at Jier.] Then be quick 
about it lass I am main thirsty. 

Elizabeth: {About to answer angrily, co?itrols her- 
self.] If your lordship will but bide patiently a 
moment I will quickly bring the ale. {As she 
passes Peter, he is grinning, and she slaps his cheeky 



32 Greater Tlian King. 

Take that, you ogling idiot. \_Exits side door of 
if I? I. ] 

Richard : \_Hears the slap and tur7is.'\ She has a quick 
temper and a quicker hand, your sweetheart. 

Peter: She be no sweetheart of mine. 




Act II.— Klizabeth and Richard. 

Richard: Are the lasses in Huntingdon all as quick to 
strike as this one? 

Petkr: I know not, your worship. 1 he better schooled 
in cattle than in women folk. S^Exits into stable as 
Elizabeth enters.'] 

Elizahhtii: [Setting dozen /nag of ale.] There be 
your ale fresh and cool from the keg, sir. 



Act II. 33 

Richard : \^Dnnks, then looks at Elizabeth in surprise^ 
By jove ! 

Elizabeth: What sir? [^ With a bobbing courtesy,'] 

Richard : Thou art surely, a comely lass to be waiting 
on travelers. Art thou from this neighborhood? 

Elizabeth: Yes, sir. \^Courtesies.] 

Richard: Come here lass. 

Elizabeth : What would your lordship want of a 
poor lass. 

Richard: Come here, I would not hurt thee. 

Elizabeth: [Bridling.'] And surely I could well take 
care of myself. 

Richard: H'm — independent as well as comely, I see. 
Come here. 

Elizabeth: Oh, I fear you not sir; a lass can tell a 
gentleman if she be a maid at an inn. 

Richard: If by gentleman you mean a man with fine 
manners you mistake me. I am but country bred 
and a soldier, and would cut a poor figure among 
the great dandies of the court. 

Elizabeth : I know nothing of courts. I meant a 
man with a kind, honest heart. 

Richard: \_Rising.] You are a flatterer, a courtier 
yourself in petticoats. 

Elizabeth: What might that be ? 

Richard: One | who would seek favor by praising. 

Elizabeth: {^Bridling.] And pray my grand sir, why 
should I court your favor ? 

Richard: [Surprised .] This is not the language of a 
bar-maid. 



34 Greater Than King. 

Elizabeth: \^Re collecting herself^ bobbing up and down 
in embarrassment.'\ Oh sir, I read that in a book. 
I — 1 — mean the mistress I did serve read it to me 
and I be mighty fond of the fine sound of the 
words. 

Richard: {^Observing her.'\ There are no serving 
maids like thee in Yorkshire, it may be otherwise 
in Huntingdon. \^Sits at table and drinks^ Tell 
me, lass, hast thou ever seen Cromwell? {^Eliza- 
beth smiles to herself. '\ He has a house not far from 
here, I am told. 

Elizabeth: It is but five miles from here as the 
crow flies. Yes, often have I seen him. 

Richard: And what sort of man might he be? 

Elizabeth : 'Twould ill become a silly maid to speak 
of so great a man as he. 

Richard: A mouse may look at a king. 

Elizabeth: But he be no king nor I a mouse. 

Richard: But they say he may be king soon. 

Elizabeth: Be he king or no king he be a noble 
man; some call him stern and heartless, but the 
poor country folk among whom he did come and go 
know the depth of his piety and the kindness of his 
heart. 

Richard: \_Rising.'\ A man must have good in him 
to find so brave a champion. 

Elizabeth: \\Vilh feeling, forgetting herself'\ I 
would that I were a man ; then would I follow him 
wherever he led — \^Rccalling Jicrsclf^ But your mug 
is empty sir, I would fill it for you? 

Richard: {^Embraces Elizabcth7\ No, I would rather 
chat with thee than drink. 



Act 11. ' 35 

Elizabeth: {^Forcibly disengages herself and runs be- 
hind table.~\ What can so great a gentleman find 
in a poor country lass? 

Richard: Beauty, for instance, and a ready wit far 
above her station. 

Elizabeth: You be the courtier now. 

Richard: Far from it, I am telling but the truth. 

Elizabeth: And do courtiers never tell the truth? 

Richard: They have been known to in a crisis. 

Elizabeth: In a what, sir? \_Richard tries to kiss 
Elizabeth but fails to reach her across tabled 

Richard: Oh, never mind. I would know more from 
thee. I hear Cromwell has several daughters. Dost 
thou know them also ? {^Leaning over table ^ 

Elizabeth : [S7nili?ig to herself] I have met all but 
one. They say he be main fond of her. 

Richard: No doubt he indulges her and she is but a 
pert saucy hoyden. 

Elizabeth: Sir! \_Angrily moving away from Rich- 
ard., then recollecting herself.] And doesn't your 
lordship favor pert saucy hoydens? 

Richard: \_Rises — seriously.] I would have a woman 
gentle, of a sober mind and to bear herself with 
womanly dignity. 

Elizabeth: \_Sighs.] Ah! 

Richard: Why, lass, what art thee sighing for? 

Elizabeth: I be thinking that your lordship be 
picturing the lady who came with you. 

Richard: Ah, Anne. \_S its at table Left.] 

Elizabeth : Anne — such a '=sweet name. How lov- 
ingly you speak it sir. 



36 • Greater Than Kuig. 

Richard: I have always loved her. 

Elizabeth : Oh ! {^As ifhurtP\ 

Richard: Dear sister. 

Elizabeth: \^Qinckly.'\ Be she your sister? 

Richard: Yes, and a better comrade never lived. 

Elizabeth: Oh, I be so glad, 

Richard: \_Rises.'\ Glad — what is it to you? \Looks 
at her curiously .'\ 

Elizabeth: [^Recovering.'] Oh, so fine a gentleman 
deserves so fair a sister. 

Richard: I was vsondering. 

Elizabeth: What? 

Richard: [Rises.] If the maids be so fair and witty, 
what might the ladies be in Huntingdon. 

Elizabeth: Oh, we bar-maids be the ladies in Hunt- 
ingdon, and the ladies be but mad hoydens. 

\_E?iter Barbara from main door of inn.] 

Richard: [Bowing with mock courtesy.] For the 
present, good day my pretty bar-maid. I will to 
my sister. [Exits main door of inn ^ 

Barbara : [To Elizabeth, who is following Richard with 
her eyes.] Elizabeth! 

Elizabeth: [Does not reply but is looking after Rich- 
ard.] 

Barbara: [Going to Elizabeth.] Oh my dear sweet 
lady, how could you be so bold ? 

Elizabeth: [Still looking after RichardT] 1 swear he 
is the handsomest, bravest gentleman I ever set eyes 
on. 

Bah HAH a : Why he be but a stranger to you. 



Act IT. 



37 



Elizabeth : \^Seriously as if to herself. ^^ He is good and 
generous, sincere and honest. 

Barbara : Tut lassie, you have known him but a half 
hour. 

Elizabeth: I seem to have known him many years, 
for he has ever lived in my fancy. Ah, 
\_sighs'\ I fear I be destined to be a maid my life 
long. \^Goes to Barbara, who takes her in her arms.~\ 
Be good to me dear nursie, be good to me. 




Act II. — Elizabeth and Barbara. 



38 Greater Tha?i King. 

Barbara: My own sweet child. 

Elizabeth: He said he would naught of hoydens. I 
would be sober minded, gentle and bear myself with 
womanly dignity. Oh nursie dear, dost think 
such a one as he could stoop to such a frivolous maid 
as me? 

Barbara: Why, my own child, what nonsense you 
do talk. He be not worthy of so fair a maid as 
you. 

Barbara : [Takes Elizabeth to side door of infi as Am- 
brose appears at rear, disguised as a poor traveling 
scholar.~\ Go in now lassie, and rest awhile. {^Eliz- 
abeth exits side door of imi.~\ 

Ambrose: \_Comes forward. '] I have traveled far and 
am dusty and tired. Bring me food and drink, 
good woman. 

Barbara : I will serve you in a moment, sir. \^As^ Bar- 
bara exits side door, Richard comes out of iini, main 
door. ] 

Ambrose : [ Who has recognized Richard. ] Good day 
to you, sir. 

Richard: \_Pre occupied, looking for Elizabeth.^ Good 
day. 

Ambrose: I would a word with you, sir. \_E/iter Bar- 
bara at side door of inn, places ale and plate on table 
and exits.l 

Richard: I have no words to spare. 

Ambrose: Indeed a poor gentleman, though he be but 
indifferently courteous. 

Richard: I owe you no courtesy, sir. And if I be 
poor, 'tis no one's business. 

Ambrose: I judge you from the North liy your surly 
manner. 



Act 11. 39^ 

Richard: And if I be from the North, what is it to 

you? Would'st pick a quarrel with me {starts to 

draw szvord^hut I see you are unarmed; if you don't 

curb your tonge, still would I have to teach yea 

• manners. 

Ambrose: IQmetfy.'] Richard. 

Richard: [Starts,'] 

Ambrose: If I knew not your face I would know you 
by your impetuous manner. 

Richard : \_Wko has been looking closely at Ambrose.'] I 
do not know you, though I vow I have heard your 
voice often. 

Ambrose : Many years ago there was a priest called 
Ambrose. 

Richard: Ambrose! [Recognizes him.] Yes, Fath- 
er Ambrose. 

Ambrose: [Richard bows 7] [Ambsose hold ha?tds up 
in benedictio7t.] Hush, don't speak so loud; I am. 
now Edward Munro. 

Richard: Well I remember you. Father Ambrose. 
But 'tis ten years since I have seen you, and in this 
disguise I never would have known you. 

Ambrose: We have met but once since the night your 
father was murdered. 

Richard: That night and your words " Strike at Crom- 
well" have ever been uppermost in my mind. I 
have sought Cromwell everywhere. I have fought 
him in the open field and in ambush ; though I have 
seen him from afar among his men, the chances of 
war have never brought us face to face. Ever act- 
ive, I have worried his soldiers on the march or in 
the field. Around me I gathered a company of fight- 
ers — fearless, rough, profane men, but fighters all. 



40 Greater Than King. 

Dick Maynard's wild horse they were called and 
they carried terror to the hearts of the enemy. I 
have slept in the open field, the hard earth my bed 
and the broad heaven the only roof over me. I ral- 
lied resistance to the last. If all had stood by the 
king's cause as we, he would now be on his throne. 
Treachery and cowardice brought the end at last. 

Ambrose : And whither are you bound ? 

Richard: There was nothing left but to surrender or 
flee the country and join the king, with him to re- 
turn when the day of his return should come. All 
northern ports were closed to us and watched by the 
protector's spies, the only way leading to escape for 
me was the boldest way, to travel openly to the south 
with my sister, and here we are. But Father, 
what have you done these years? 

Ambrose : Fought as you have but with different weap- 
ons ; though I confess with hardly more success. 
But now we are on the eve of great things. Let 
Oliver Cromwell make his peace with God, for his 
days, nay his hours, are numbered. 

Richard : You mean that he is to be assassinated. 

Ambrose : Ah, how like your father. The same word, 
the same fallacy. \WitJi earnest ciriphasis^ You 
carry on war and kill the enemy's soldiers and inno- 
cent people alike and no dog barks. You lie in am- 
bush and fire upon the unsuspecting enemy and no 
dog barks. You rob the country-side of all its prov- 
ender and women and children starve to death, and 
no dog barks. It is war, an exercise of the manly 
art of war. But when we, taking like yourselves 
our lives in our hands, would remove the man who 
caused that evil called war, and by his death would 
spare the anguish of thousands, then we are assas- 
sins, forsooth. 



Act 11. 41 

Richard: I never could sustain an argument and ven- 
ture you are right. I have done but this, to seek 
the enemy and to strike him when and where I found 
him. I could not shoot a man behind his back, even 
were he Oliver "Cromwell himself, whom I owe a 
burden of hatred. 

Ambrose: Under what name are you traveling? 

Richard: My own; its good enough, and besides it is 
the only safe one for me. I could not maintain anoth- 
er's name successfully for ten minutes. Besides, my 
name is not an uncommon one. 

Ambrose: But fear you not Cromwell's spies? They 
are everywhere. 

Richard : I fear them not, for they are sure to look 
for me, not as Richard Maynard, but under an as- 
sumed name and disguise, and while they search 
for me as someone traveling by night and hiding by 
day in unexpected places, I travel as myself in 
broad daylight without disguise the straight road to 
my goal. 

Ambrose: There is wisdom in your argument; few, 
though, would have the bravery to successfully fol- 
low it. But join us in our work. Courage such as 
yours would be of great service to our cause. 

Richard: I fear I would be but a clumsy tool in your 
hands. Better for me to go abroad and to return 
with the king the day he will come home to fight 
for his own. \_iIorns are heard out side. ~\ 

Ambrose : We had better not be seen talking together. 
[Richard enters main door of inn quickly, slowly 
follozved by Ambrose, as enter Cromwell, Lady 
Cromzvell, Lady Claire, Duncan, soldiers, gentle- 
men and ladies in Cromwell's train at rear. 



42 Greater Than King. 

Cromwell is fifty-four years old — a man of massive 
head and frame cast in large mould. He has a wart 
over right eye, full lips, dark grey eyes full of ten- 
derness or fierceness. Rich, dark-brown locks fall 
flowing belozv his collar band. Slight mustache and 
slight tuft on chin. In manner he is somewhat rough 
and is possessed of a grim humor. 

Lady Cromwell, a matronly looking zvoman about 
fifty years old. 

Lady Claire, a handsome zvoman of the zvorld, 
tzventy-five years old. 

Duncan, grown older, still a man of soldierly bear- 
ing. 

From side door of inn, enter Elizabeth and Bar- 
bara. Elizabeth runs to Cromwell.'] 

Cromwell: My dear Elizabeth. [Greets her affection- 
ately. Elizabeth greets her mother and Lady Claire. 
Ah, Barbara, thou art growing very portly. Let us 
all enter and see what refreshment is prepared for 
us. [All exit into inn except Elizabeth, who also 
detains her father. A guard is seen passing at back 
now and then.] 

Elizabeth : Father, I have not had thee a moment to 
myself for many days. 

Cromwell: Then sit with me awhile. [Leads her to 
seat Left, Cromwell sits in chair and Elizabeth on 
arm of same.] Tell me how dost thou spend thy 
time during thy mother's and my absences ? I would 
be assured that thou hast not forgotten thy house- 
wifely work nor neglected thy religious duties. 

Elizabeth : I have tried hard to be a good and dutiful 
daughter. [After a moment.'] Oh father, the world 
is very beautiful. 

Cromwell: But what moves my lassie to speak of that 
now ? 



Act 11. 



43^ 




Act II. — CromweIvIv and Bwzabeth. 



Elizabeth : Yesterday I was up with the sun and im 
the garden. The dew was on the leaves and the 
blades of grass. The air was as fresh as the morn- 
ing and filled with a faint, sweet odor like the breath 
of flowers. I walked down among the beds, then I 
strayed beyond the wall into the fields, not heeding 
my wet skirt and shoes, but feeling only the sweet- 
ness of the morn. Father I was a happy, happy 
child. I felt no sorrow and yet no exceeding joy. 
Father, it seems so long, so long ago, that yester- 
day. 



44 Greater Than King. 

Cromwell: What has crossed thy spirit child? Isn't 
thy world the same to-day as it was yesterday? 

Elizabeth : [Standing behind Cromwell's chair, her 
arms about his neck.] I know not what it is, father. 
[After awhile.] Hast thou ever been in love, 
father ? 

Cromwell : What a strange question, lassie. Did I not 
love thy mother as I love her still, but God forbid 
that I place any human affection above the love we 
all owe Him. 

Elizabeth: [Hardly heeding zvhat her father says.] 
Father, I mean hast thou been so in love that all else 
seemed as naught? Hast thou loved with thy heart 
and soul, and has the world seemed one moment 
filled with joyful music and then grown unutterably 
sad? 

Cromwell: [As if to himself — sadly.] I once did love 
like that and lost. Which went like a dagger to my 
heart. Indeed it did. [Recovering himself.] But 
my own sweet Bess, why speak of this now? Has 
some cavalier, in passing, ruthlessly stolen my las- 
sie's heart? 

Elizabeth : No, no father, it's but a fancy. 

Cromwell: But fancies found themselves on facts 
sometimes. What weighs upon thy mind ? Tell me. 
[Elizabeth stands in front of her father, who holds 
both Jicr hands in his.] 

Elizabeth : I hardly know. Father, others may call 
thee stern, but thou wert ever kind and good to me, 
beyond my poor deserts. 

•Cromwell: I have always loved thee dearly, my own 
Bess, with deepest love this side idolatry. I would 
ever stand between thee and harm that might befall. 
But give me thy full confidence, child, what hast 
thou to confess? 



Act IL 45, 

Elizabeth : Nothing, father, really nothing I tell thee. 
I must perchance be in a silly mood, my dear old 
daddy. 

Cromwell: But a time will come, lass, when thou wilt 
leave thy old daddy. \Rises,'\ 

Elizabeth: Father, I would stay with fhee always, as. 
long as thou wouldst have me with thee, for I may 
never love better than I love thee. 

Cromwell : Be not rash in thy promises, child. I know 
well thy fondness for a rough old soldier, but it is- 
the will of God, thou shalt some day leave thy father 
and mother and cleave unto thy husband. 

Elizabeth : Let us not speak of it now, I must away 
to Huntingdon. 

Cromwell: Good bye, dear child, and God protect thee 
always. \Kisses her tenderly. '\ Remember thy 
father is ever thy best friend. Let nothing shake 
thee in this. 

Elizabeth: \Calls^ Peter, Peter. Take my horse to- 
the outer gate. 

Peter: [Voice heard.] Yes, me lady. 

[To Cromwell, naturally.] Good bye, father. [Exits 
at back. Cromwell stands thoughtfully as Lady 
Cromwell and Lady Claire enter. ] 

Cromwell: [Turns and meets Lady Cromwell with 
Lady Claire.] 

Lady Cromwell : Oliver, I have not told thee that Lady 
Claire comes highly commended by our friend be- 
yond the sea. Lady Montaigne, and is well versed 
in the manners of the French Court. [Sits at table- 
Left. Lady Claire bozvs deeply. Cromzvell scru- 
tinises her closely.] 



- 46 Greater Than King. 

Cromwell: It pleases me to know you the friend of 
Lady Montaigne, though I surmise you bring but 
an ill opinion of ourselves from a Court where our 
enemies are welcome, and hesitate not to credit us 
with many atrocities. 

Lady Claire \ It were a person of evil mind or bad judg- 
ment who could tarry in your Excellency's presence 
without feeling that naught but slanderous tongue 
could impute ignoble or cruel deed to your Excel- 
lency. {Bows deeply.'] 

'Cromwell: [Looking half pleased by Lady Claire's 
speech.] You overestimate our humble merit. 
Whatever I have done for my fellow-countrymen has 
been by the Grace of God and through His power 
alone, and is due to no humble merit of mine. But 
pray tell me what news have you as to the doings 
of our enemies. Be they as active as ever? 

Lady Claire: The fame of your Excellency's triumphs 
has sapped their enthusiasm and they desire but to 
live their lives in peace. 

"Cromwell : A blessed relief to us , for which we are 
devoutly thankful. [Grimly.] However we shall be 
careful to double our vigilance. It were as natural 
for the wolf to lie down beside the fold as for Charles 
Stewart to content himself in peace. But of your- 
self let us speak. Are you a French woman ? I can 
hardly think so, you speak our language so well. 

-Lady Claire : I am of English parentage, but born and 
bred in France. At home we always spoke English. 
I have lived much in Paris and trust what I have 
learned at the Court may make me humbly useful 
to your Excellency's charming wife. [Turns to 
Lady Cromwell. Ambrose enters qidetly main door 
of inn; takes seat at table Right.] 



Act IL 47 

Lady Cromwell: \Rising.'\ We are already very fond 
of Lady Claire who has taught us some matters of 
ceremony. 

Cromwell: I would not scorn due ceremony; it is the 
proper clothing of those who rule. But, wife, what 
heard you of our daughter Barbara. YFhey go hack 
and talk as Lady Claire turns to right and speaks 
quietly to Ambrose. A look of recognition passes 
between them. Ambrose rises.] 

Lady Claire: You are a scholar, I see; whence travel 
you.^ 

Ambrose : I am but recently from Oxford and on my 
way to a wealthy squire's who would have me tutor 
of his son ; but I am. weary of travel and poor. 

Lady Claire: I would gladly assist you, but have not 
the means. 

Cromwell: Let us now to dinner. Will you join us, 
Lady Claire? 

Lady Claire : I feel slightly indisposed and would not 
eat. The fresh air may revive me. I shall await 
your Excellencies here. [Courtesies. Cromwell and 
Lady Cromwell exit into main door of inn.] 

Ambrose: [Quickly.] Why did you risk coming to 
England? It is folly. 

Lady Claire : Do not quarrel with me now, I came for 
love of you. This chance offered, I hoped to meet 
you, and if not, I would at least be nearer to you. 
I have been deeply unhappy. I know my love is sin 
before the Church, but I care not. 

Ambrose: [Gently.] I am but a hunted wanderer, our 
love can bring no good to either of us. 

Lady Claire: [Puts both hands on Ambrose's shoul- 
der.] Give up this mad pursuit; what profits it — go 
back to France with me. 



4S Greater Than King. 

Ambrose: [Gently puts down Lady Claire's hands.] 
You know my aims, my ambitions; I have often 
told you. 

Lady Claire : Yes, yes, you would place on England's 
throne a roistering blade of a king. What is he to 
you? 

Ambrose: I care not for the king; he is but an instru- 
ment in our hands. I am a soldier of the Churchy 
the only true mother Church, to w^hich I humbly give 
my thoughts, my energies, yes my life. I would 
strangle this damnable heresy that has seized upon 
this age and country. 

Lady Claire : [ Viewing him with a peculiar smile. ] 
Are you so sure you are right? 

Ambrose : Right ! Why I could prove it to you by 

[Stopping himself.'] 'Twere useless to quote authori- 
ties to you — you are but a woman. 

Lady Claire: Yes, I'm but a woman and would not 

understand that is the phrase. [Sits at table 

Right.] 

Ambrose: And I confess I don't understand you, but 
then no man has ever understood the workings 
of a woman's mind. 

Lady Claire : Nonsense ; you men have in your wisdom 
set up an image and called it woman, and there it 
stands as unlike woman as the image carved by 
savage hand is unlike man. [Rises.] 

Ambrose : But the great fathers of the Church wrote 

Lady Claire : [Snapping fingers.] A fig for your great 
fathers. Women are simple, if you men but knew it. 
Some day a man will understand woman, and then 
this talk about their complex nature will become as 
old rubbish. 

Ambrose: [Gently taking her hands.] Let us not speak 
of this now, Claire ; we have but a few moments. 



Act II. 49 

Lady Claire: \Piits arms about his neck.] Readily, 
it's nothing to me. But to be near you is much ; to 
aid you in danger, to help you if seized upon. Wc 
women love men best when they need us most. 

Ambrose: Dear Claire. [A look of earnest love passes 
between them. Ambrose releases himself and stands 
holding Lady Claire's hands. After a pause, thought- 
fully.] Perhaps you could help us in the cause. 

Lady Claire: [Sadly.] I would help your cause, if it 
be to aid you dear, tho' I think it folly. 

Ambrose : Then should we fail to-day, I would have you 
bring me information as to Cromwell's movements ; 
you shall know where to reach me. L cannot trust 
Maynard to do this. 

Lady Claire : You mean this Maynard would not play 

the spy, but I [Voices are heard in inn approach- 

ing — quickly?^ You shall have, dear, what you ask. 
[Quietly in louder voice.] Here, may this help you 
on your journey. [Enter Cromwell and Duncan 
from main door of inn. Ambrose exits Left. ] 

Cromwell: Will you join Lady Cromwell, Lady Claire? 
She desires some slight service of you. [Lady Claire 
exits at main door of inn.] 

Cromwell: [Sits at table Left.] I have had no oppor- 
tunity to question you alone, Duncan, as to your re- 
port. I have read anxiety in your face. Speak. 

Duncan : Your Excellency, a plot, a Popish plot, a 
damnable plot. 

Cromwell : Confine yourself to facts. I would you ex- 
ercised more godliness in your conversation. 

Duncan : Forgive, your Excellency, the ardor of a de- 
voted follower. 



50 Greater Than King. 

Cromwell: The story, the story. 

Duncan : A conspiracy to trap your Excellency, to seize 
upon your person on your way from Whitehall to 
Hampton Court. 

Cromwell : I understand, and therefore we crossed at 
Putney. 

Duncan : While the carriage came the other way, fol- 
lowed by horse at some distance, to trap the con- 
spirators, and may they all be hanged, the sons of 
Belial. ■ 

Cromwell: Go on. 

Duncan : Several men were secured, Girard, Vowel and 
other prisoners, but the arch conspirator, the Jesuit 
priest, Ambrose, escaped. A priest, a devilish, Pop- 
ish priest, a serpent of a serpent's brood, may God 
curse him and his like. Too much leniency is shown 
them. The sword is too good for the sons- of the 
evil one. They should all hang. There will be no 
peace in the land until trees bear such fruit. 

Cromwell: \Rises — zc/Z/z spirit.] Man, curb thyself. 
They are all God's creatures. Curse them not for not 
subscribing to the tenets of thy creed. There has 
been too much of this persecution for opinion's sake. 
Let every man come to God in his own manner of 
worship, but if he be honest, let that suffice. 

Duncan : This be dangerous heresy. 

Cromwell: Enough, be silent, man. See that the per- 
sons of the conspirators are well secured. 

Duncan : [Exits at back, grumbling. Ambrose enters 
Left, points out Cromwell to soldier on guard, 
then makes sign of cross over him and exits.] 

Cromwell: [Sits at tabic Right.] It is all most diffi- 
cult, most difficult. The i)ath is beset with thorns; 



ActIL 5 

. it is infinitely harder to deal with overzealous 
friends than with the open enemy. This Duncan 
will be of great trouble some day. But I have not 
sought these things ; truly I have been called unto 
them by the Lord. \Prays.\ God grant me to find 
the way.. [Richard enters and remains on steps, 
main door of inn.] We are all in Thy hands. God 

[The soldier fires and misses Cronizvell. Crom- 

zvell, unarmed, rises slowly and then faces the sol- 
dier. Soldier draws sword and starts tozvard Crom- 
zvell, hut is intercepted by Richard, zvho holds him off 
at the point of his szvord. The troopers enter hur^ 
riedly zvith Diincan and seize upon the soldier. En- 
ter Barbara, Lady Cromzvell, Lady Claire, Anne and 
others. Anne goes to Richard.] 

Cromwell : Handle him not roughly. For his attempt 
upon my life he shall answer to the Courts. For 
being so bad a shot, he shall forthwith be discharged 
the service. [To Richard.] Sir, I am greatly in- 
debted to you and thank you from the depth of my 
heart. God has indeed wonderfully preserved me. 
What is your name, Sir? 

Richard: Maynard is my name, and I travel with my 
sister, whom you see here. And who are you, Sir, 
who faced death so coolly? 

Cromwell: I am Oliver Cromwell. 

Richard : Oliver Cromwell ! 

Cromwell: Why do you start, Sir, at the name? [Am- 
brose enters.] 

Richard: [Confused.] Pardon, Sir — the unexpected- 
ness — your fame 

Cromwell: Fame! I value it but little. I would rather 
have the love of honest men than great renown. I 
like you. Sir, would you enter my service? I would 
find honorable business for vou to do. 



Greater Tha/i Ki/io. 



Richard : I enter Cromwell's service, why [Starts 

back. Duncan steps between Cromwell and Rich- 
ard. Ambrose touches Richard on sleeve. Richard 
turns. ] 

Duncan : I would warn your Excellency against the 
engagement of a stranger. I fear he be an emissary 
of the enemy, a worshiper of Rome. [While Crom- 
well is talking with Duncan, Ambrose has intimated 
to Richard by pantomime that he must accept. Rich- 
ard looks puzzled.] 

Cromwell: Rest you quiet man. You would scent 
treason in every wind that blows. Though he be 
an enemy, I judge him from the sincerity of his 
countenance, no traitor. [Duncan retires. To Rich- 
ard.'] Sir, would you accept of service with me? 

Richard: [Hesitating at first.] I I and it please 

your Excellency, I accept. 

Cromwell: It pleases me well. Sir, and if I judge you 
right, you will render honest service. I have learned 
to read men's characters. I have been and am in 
constant great danger from those who desire to de- 
stroy me, but to you, Sir, would I willingly trust 
my life. [CronnvcU takes Richard's hand as curtain 
descends.] 



m 



ACT III. 

Scene: A room in the Palace, Whitehall. At back Left 
large leaded glass window ; at back Right wide main 
entrance ; at front Left and Right doors ; large work- 
ing table at Right front ; small table at Left ; other 

furniture. 

Time: Three days later. [Exodus Treat, Cromivell's 
Secretary, is busy at desk zvith papers. He is rather 
a small man, middle-aged, zvith an exceedingly self- 
important air, a "dry as dust" scrivener. As he ar- 
ranges papers, he mutters to himself about his zvork.] 

Tre.\t : Aly, my, my. what a muddle, and were it not 
for Exodus Treat, why the whole Commonwealth 
would be soon going to the dogs. For not only have 
1 to write out all dispatches of most serious import, 
adorned with erudite phrase, and transpose them 
into most courtly French, but I, Exodus Treat, must 
see that no paper, aye, not so much as a bit of a 
torn corner, be lost, for if such a one be lost or mis- 
placed, why it might involve us in a war with his 
Spanish Majesty or some other foreign potentate; 
but there be no danger, for Exodus Treat watches 
carefully and nothing can escape his vigilance. My 
system of arrangement places the possibility of mis- 
laying or losing aught, beyond peradventure. 

Cromweel: [Entering from door Right.] Have you 
news this morning, Master Treat? 

Tki:at : Indeed, your Excellency ; dispatches from Ad- 
miral r»lake. He has i)uiiished the pirates of Tu- 
nis, burning their ships. 



Act III. 55 

Cromwell: Good news indeed, they shall consider us; 
I would make an English citizen as respected 
throughout the world as ever a Roman has been. 
Place the dispatches in my study, I shall read them 
with care. [Enter Richard Maynard from main en- 
trance. ] 

Richard : Your Excellency, good day. 

Cromwell : Good day, sir. Have you delivered the 
letters summoning Lord Richmond and others to 
our presence? 

Richard : They have been all delivered as by your or- 
der. 

Treat: [Backing and bowing.^ I will retire, your 
Excellency, to carefully pen your letter. [Exits 
door Right.] 

Richard: [Looking after Treat.] A most busy man, 
deep in your confidence. Is it safe, your Excellency, 
to trust so much to one who might easily betray? 

Cromwell: What! Treason in Master Treat? No, 
No ! To him the manner of his work is alone of im- 
port. Why he would argue beyond patience as to 
a quill, the exact weight, when it should be plucked, 
the phase of the moon, from what part of the anat- 
omy of the goose it should be taken, how to cut it, 
the quality of knife to be used, the method and di- 
rection of the cut. Ha ! Ha ! He knows naught of 
what he writes; I have tested him. Once did' I 
have him to write an order for his own execution, 
which, when carefully penned, he handed me for 
my signature, without dreaming of its import to 
himself. [Laughs grimly. Treat enters from door 
Right. Shouts are heard outside. Treat goes to 
zvindow and looks out.] 

Treat : Your Excellency, the crowd is gathering out- 
side ; they are cheering your Excellency, they de- 



56 Greater Than Ki?ig. 

sire to welcome you on your return. Ah, the crowd 
increases. 

Cromwell: Don't let that disturb you, Master Treat, 
for a much larger crowd would gather if 'twere to 
see me hanged. [Laughs grimly. Goes to zvindow, 
showing himself. Shouts are heard. Enter ser- 
vant at main entrance.] 

Servant: The lords and ladies are in waiting, your 
Excellency. 

Cromwell: Admit them. [Servant exits; enter Lord 
Richmond, Lady Claire, courtiers and ladies; all 
bow.] Welcome home, Lord Richmond, and wel- 
come to you all, my lords and ladies. I have sum- 
moned you to be present at this occasion on which 
we first greet our valued friend, Lord Richmond, 
who has but returned from foreign travels. [Turn- 
ing to Lord Richmond.] Your Lordship has trav- 
eled far and learned the ways of other countries, 
which knowledge should prove of great value to our- 
selves in our relations with these governments, a 
fact weighing much in your favor, my Lord Rich- 
mond. 

Richmond : What knowledge I have gained lies at your 
service, your Excellency, and I trust may be of use 
to your Excellency. 

Cromwell: Your Lordship has been of certain service 
to this Commonwealth and this I weigh greatly in 
your favor. 

Richmond: I have tried to serve to the utmost of my 
humble ability ; few men have engaged further than 
I have done, your Excellency. 

Cromwell: You have been at Paris ^ but I vow you 
have not sought intercourse with Charles Stewart, 
though much tempted. And this would make you 
dear to us, mv Lord. 



Act HI. 57 

Richmond : I could not so far forget my duty as to 
court secret counsel with a Stewart, your Excel- 
lency. 

Cromwell : And for your discretion, your truth and 
honor, the Commonwealth should claim your ser- 
vices in high position, my Lord. 

Richmond : I would ever serve your Excellency faith- 
fully. 

Cromwell: {^Going close to Richmond and looking him 
straight in the eye.'] When you saw Charles Stew- 
art, who put out the candles? 

Richmond: [Stammers and does not reply.] 

Cromwell : And what did Charles Stewart say to you. 
Did he not give you a letter? 

Richmond: No, no, your Excellency. 

Cromwell: [Tears Richmond's hat from his hands.] 
You served me faithfully, you traitor! Here is the 
proof of your guilt. [Takes letter out of lining of 
hat.] This, a letter from Charles Stewart, in the 
lining of your hat. Well, what now of your truth, 
your honesty, your faithfulness? [In a towering 
passion, throws hat at Richmond's feet.] You 
come here with sweet words on your lips and per- 
fidy in your heart, but this let me say : If this plot- 
ting against the peace of this Commonwealth and 
against my life, placed as I am by Almighty God 
to bring content to this distracted country, do not 
cease, then will I exterminate this Charles Stewart 
and his kin, root and branch, to the remotest mem- 
ber even. Let them flee to the uttermost confines of 
this earth [Goes back and stands in main en- 
trance, zvavivg to guard.] Guard! \Eiiter Guard, 
preceded by CromzvcU.] Take this man to the tower. 
[Richmond gives his sword to officer of guard and 



5S Greater TJian Ki/ig. 

is led out. Cromwell turns to others.] My Lords 
and Ladies, may you pardon my violence ; I cannot 
stomach a traitor and a breaker of promises. [Goes 
back and talks with lords and ladies, who form 
groups and talk at hack. ] 

Lady Claire: [Comes forzvard and says to Richard.] 
This arrest is most serious. Father Ambrose must 
know of it at once. Will you find him and advise 
him? 

Richard: Rest assured, my lady, I will. [They go 
back to others. Cromzvell comes forward.] 

Treat: [Enters from door Right. To Cromwell.^ 
These are the letters prepared and signed by your 
Excellency this morning. [Cromwell takes letters. 
Treat busies himself at table. ^ 

Cromwell: [To Richard.] In these few days which 
you have spent in my service, I have shown you 
much confidence by entrusting you with most im- 
portant messages. This which I hand you now 
should reach the address within the hour. Will you 
deliver it? [Gives one of letters to Richard.] 

Richard : Your Excellency may depend on me. [Exits 
at main entrance.] 

Cromwell: \To Treat.] These other letters. Master 
Treat, have delivered by the regular court messen- 
gers. 

Treat: I shi\ll see to it at once, your Excellency. [Ex- 
its Right. Enter Lady Cronizcell and Elizabeth from 
Left. Elii^abeth goes to Cromwell, Lady Cromzvell 
joins the others.] 

Elizai'.etii : Good day, father. 

Cromwell: [Turning and caressing Elizabeth.] But 
my Bess, I thought thou couldst not leave thy flower 
beds and thy poultry. What brings thee to London ? 



Act HI. 59' 

Elizabeth : Fm no longer content with the pleasures 
of our country home. I hardly know myself ; I am. 
sadly distraught. Father, I would like once to at- 
tend a reception to all the great folk, of which one 
occurs to-morrow night. 

Cromwell: Child, I would thy thoughts were on god- 
lier things. When thou art older thou wilt have 
time enough for frivolities. 

Elizabeth : [Holding both of CromzveWs hands.'] 
Father, let me remain for this and I will not tease 
thee more. 

Cromwell : It cannot be. 

Elizabeth : Thou wouldst not send me home like this ?- 
Why, I would break my heart a crying of it. 

Cromwell : If thy heart be so set upon it, child, thou 
mayst remain this time. 

Elizabeth : Dear, dear daddie. [Embraces Cromwell,, 
then joins Lady Cromwell and others.] 

Cromwell : Again I have the pleasure of your lady- 
ship's countenance. 

Lady Claire: [Courtesies.] They say in France — I 
would not tell what they do say — for 'tis not true. 
Your Excellency is graciousness itself. If a poor- 
weak woman could wield the power, even your Ex- 
cellency's enemies would do but honor to your 
Excellency. 

Cromwell: I am but a soldier bred in the field, rough 
and hard as the ground that often has been my bed,, 
but I trust I do not lack seeing the true virtue that 
lies in grace of person and manner, though, for the 
life I have led, they lie not within my power to- 
imitate. 



6o Greater TJian King. 

Lady Claire: The truly great do not imitate; they 
themselves are an example for others to follow. 

Cromwell : Your country cultivates the art of flattery, 
Lady Claire. 

Lady Claire : If truth be flattery, then am I the most 
accomplished of flatterers. \Courtesies.'\ 

Cromwell: \^Smiling.'\ A truce, a truce, lady, I am 
no match for you in this verbal fencing. Would 
you oblige me with your friend. Lady Montaigne's, 
address ? I desire to communicate with her. 

Lady Claire: Certainly. She lives in the Rue de la 
Paix, near the border of the Seine. 

Cromwell: I am' but an ill French scholar; please write 
it down for me. Lady Claire. 

Lady Claire: With pleasure, your Excellency. [Writes 
address and hands same to Cromwell.^ 

Lady Claire : Will your Excellency drive out to-night ? 
The day is passing beautiful. 

Cromwell: [On guard.] I have planned a short rest 
from my labors. 

Lady Claire : I trust that your Excellency will be not 
content with but a few hours of rest. 

Cromwell: I shall leave at six o'clock and shall return 
at eight; these two hours are more than I have 
spared from business for some time. 

Lady Claire : We have already taken up too much of 
your Excellency's time. [Turning to Lady Crom- 
well, who is coming to7^'ards them.] Is your ladyship 
going now? 

Lady Cromwell: Yes, we will retire. Good day, 
Oliver. 

Elizabeth : A good day to you, father. 



Act III. 6i 

Lady Claire : Good day, your Excellency. 

Cromwell: Good day, Lady Claire. \To others.] Good 
day, my lords and ladies. [All bow and 
exit but Cromwell, Lady Claire last. Cromwell 
strikes bell handle of sword — in deep thought.] A 
comely woman, a comely woman. [Glances at ad- 
dress he holds in his hand and sits at table Right.] 
This bit of paper may prove of value to us. I fear 
my Lady Claire is traveling a dangerous road. I 
wonder what her motive be. Men conspire for the 
love of power ; women for the love of some man. 
We must find the man. 

Treat: [Enters from Right.]- Your Excellency did 
ring? 

Cromwell : I shall not drive out to-night. Not a word 
of this to anyone. Let the guard be doubled. 

Treat : It shall be ordered, your Excellency. [Exits 
main entrance and returns soon and busies himself 
at table Right.] 

Duncan: [Enters at main entrance.] A word with 
your Excellency. 

Cromwell: [Sits at table Left.] What, another con- 
spiracy, Duncan? 

Duncan : It is not of conspiracies I would speak, but 
of the soldiers. They murmur and say you make 
peace with the enemies of the Lord, who placed into 
your hands the sword of Gideon ; that you treat 
with patience even the Jews and the Popish soldiers 
led by the priests of Baal ; that no longer must 
one be a true believer to rise in the service, but that 
men of indifferent faith take rank above the faith- 
ful. 

Cromwell: You know my views, Duncan; why bring 
these tales to me? 



•62 Greater TIudi King: 



Duncan : Because the army has placed you where you 
are. Because to it you owe all you possess. I fear 
if I carry not to the faithful a promise that from 
their number alone shall officers be appointed, they 
will soon be in open revolt. 

Cromwell: \Rising.\ I know that next to God I owe 
these faithful men that I am here , but I am not an- 
. swerable to them alone, but to all Englishmen, and 
fear not these idle threats. This be understood now 
as before, in choosing men take no notice of their 
opinion if they be willing to serve faithfully, that 
satisfies. Bear, Duncan, with those of different 
minds from yourself. \Crosses to table Right.'} 

Duncan : Oliver Cromwell, I have warned thee and I 
say to thee now, the wrath of the Lord will be upon 
those who are unfaithful to his word , and there 
will be a day of reckoning, when the ground shall 
tremble and the houses shall fall, and there shall 
be wailing and gnashing of teeth, but the Lord will 
know his own and take care of them. Oliver Crom- 
well, I warn thee. Be not among those who shall 
fall beneath the wrath of the Almighty. 

Cromwell: [Sternly.] I have treated you with ex- 
ceeding patience, Duncan. You and your violent 
opinions. Much has been forgiven for past service's 
sake, but understand, no more will I listen to words 
such as these. Have you aught else to say? 

Duncan : There is unusual activity among those that 
be the friends of the Pretender. The hated Amal- 
ekite king. 

Cromwell: Watch the palace well to-night. 

Duncan: It shall be done. [Exits mam entrance.] 

Cromwell: [To Treat.] I shall to my study. Do 
not call me unless on serious occasion. 



Act III. 63 

Treat: Yes, your Excellency. [Cromwell exits Right.] 

Elizabeth : [Enters at main entrance a moment after 
her father has left.] Father! 

Treat: [Bozving profoundly.] Your ladyship, his Ex- 
cellency has this moment left and desires not to be 
disturbed. 

Elizabeth : Master Treat, are you left all alone ? 

Treat : As you see ; and call myself happy of the occa- 
sion to speak to your ladyship. [Bows.] 

Eliza BETH: [ Wt/k mock courtesy. ] I most fear to be left 
with so gay a gallant ; and what would you say to 
me, Master Treat? 

Treat : I would express the sentiments of a man who 
sincerely admires your ladyship and would say that 
your ladyship is the finest flower that blossoms — 
that blossoms — that blossoms — 

Elizabeth : How often do I blossom. Master Treat ? 
Or am I one of those perennial flowers that blos- 
som and blossom on forever? 

Treat : I fear I ventured foolishly on speech. But if 
you should dictate them to me, I would most beau- 
tifully inscribe on parchment your virtues with all 
the flourishes known to the art. 

Elizabeth : A pretty speech indeed, and an excellent 
notion. Master Treat. If the ladies be their own 
gallants, many a one would be done justice who now 
receives but scant notice. For instance to myself I 
would say : Mistress Bess. [Imitating motion of 
writing in the air; Treat does the same.] Thy brow is 
like — like — unto Juno's. Thine eyes are penetrating 
like — like — Apollo's [thinking] ; but he was a man — 
never mind, a man may have fine eyes. Thy nose is as 
if moulded by — by — Praxitiles. Thy mouth is — well, 
of course thy mouth is Cupid's Bow, and thus would 



64 Greater Than King. 

I give fair praise and show my learning. [Elisa- 
beth courtesies. Treat laughs and goes to table.] But 
Master Treat, where is the newly-attached soldier 
of whose good looks I have heard much? I doubt 
me, but he be an indifferent appearing man or a 
coxcomb. 

Treat : Nay, your ladyship. He may be handsome or 
not, that I have not noticed, but a true gentleman 
he is, if Exodus Treat knows one. A fiery temper, 
indeed, but a gentleman. 

Elizabeth : Where is that paragon now, Master Treat,, 
for paragon he must be to win so eloquent a cham- 
pion. 

Treat : He bears some message for his Excellency but 
should soon be here. 

Elizabeth : I am curious to meet him. What is his 
name? 

Treat: Richard Maynard. 

Elizabeth : Ah, you must present me to him. 

Treat: [Stammers, confused.] What, I? Your fath- 
er — why — 

Elizabeth : My father said he would not be disturbed ; 
and my father's daughter would not wait. [It be- 
gins to grow dusk.] 

Treat: [Protesting.] But — your ladyship. 

Elizabeth : And then you must leave me alone with 
him. 

Treat: I dare not, I dare not. 

Elizabeth : You shall leave as soon as you have pre- 
sented him. I will take the consequences. 

Treat: [Walking back and forth.] But, oh deart* 
Oh dear! Oh dear! What shall I do? I cannot 
but obey. 



Act III. 65 

Richard : [Enters hastily at main entrance.'] Here I 
am, Master Treat, and a devil of a time I have had 
finding the man. [Seeing Elizabeth, who has re- 
tired into the shadow and half turns her hack. ] Oh I 
I see you are not alone, Master Treat. Pardon my 
abrupt entrance and speech. [Goes to table Right.'] 

Elizabeth: [To Treat, who does not know what tO' 
do.] . Present me. 

Treat: Mr. Maynard, I would present to you his Ex- 
cellency's daughter, Lady Elizabeth. [Richard 
bows and goes to window. Treat looks at Elizabeth, 
who motions him to go.] Now I must — I really 

must leave you — you will pardon me [Starts 

to exit Right.] 

Elizabeth : Must you then go, Master Treat ? I would 
gladly have had further speech with you. [Treat 
returns.] 

Treat : Oh, your ladyship, I could . [She makes vio- 
lent sign to him. He starts again.] No, I must 
go ; I have to go ; I cannot stay ; no, I must go. 

Elizabeth : I am very sorry the necessities of your 
business rob me of your instructive company. 
[Treat returns again; Elizabeth motions him to go- 
and keeps turning him around as she urges him to- 
wards the door; he exits Right. It has grozvn quite 
dark in the room.] 

Richard: [Coming toward Elizabeth.] I would swear 
that I had heard your voice before , were I not so 
sure that it is impossible 

Elizabeth : And I were a man, I would swear and 
loudly swear that I had heard your voice before,, 
and in truth I am certain I have and vow I have. 

Richard: [Puzzled.] In years I have been unaccus- 
tomed to a lady's voice ; and this one is fresh in 



66 



Greater TJiaii Ki?ig, 



my memory. Nay, to tell the truth it haunts me. 
[Thinking.] No, no, it cannot be. [Servant 
brings in lamp and sets it on table Left. Elizabeth 
remains in shadozv.] 

Elizabeth : What cannot be ? 

Richard: [To himself.] No, no. 'Twere impossible. 

Elizabeth : You try my patience, sir ; you seem to 
prefer your own discourse to mine. [Sits at table 
Right.] 

IRiCHARD : Pardon me, lady. I had a foolish notion that 
in your voice I heard again the voice of a serving 
maid I had speech with a few days since at an inn. 

Elizabeth : And though she was a serving- maid her 
voice haunts you? 

Hichard: She was no ordinary wench, but of some su- 
perior mould. I know^ not what unhappy fate placed 




-Richard, Treat and Ei^izabeth. 



Act III, 67 

her in such lowly position, but as her memory comes 
to me, I see not a serving -maid of a country tavern, 
but a sweet girl of natural wit and delicate grace. 

Elizabeth : I would surmise the country maid kept 
the cavalier's heart. 

Richard: And what would make you think that? 

Elizabeth : \Rising.'\ Faith, and have not you your- 
self but told me so? {Imitating him.'] Her voice 
haunts your memory. She is a sweet girl of nat- 
ural wit and so much more and forsooth another 
should not guess? [Goes to table Left.] 

Richard: [Thoughtfully.] What strange resemblance 
in your voices. 

Elizabeth : [Standing Left of table in light of lamp 
and looking at him.] And see you no other resem- 
blance ? 

Richard: [Looking startled.] Why, you — you are — 

Elizabeth : Elizabeth, Cromwell's daughter, or Bet, 
the serving-maid, the hoyden, at your service. Sir, 
[Courtesies.] 

Richard: You, Cromwell's daughter! My God ! [Con- 
trols himself.] But why did you assume the guise 
of a serving-maid? 

Elizabeth : To while away a summer afternoon. An 
idle fancy. Are you displeased to see me changed? 

Richard: I know not what to say. Forgive a soldier, 
a courtier would have thought of twenty pretty 
things to say. 

Elizabeth: And the soldier cannot think of one? 

Richard: How could I have been so blind? I was 
ashamed of my low fancy, as I thought it, but now 
[Hesitates.] 



68 Greater Than King;- 



i> 



Elizabeth : But now- 



Richard: But now, I am proud of it, for though my 
reason was befooled, my heart was not deceived by 
your disguise. 

Elizabeth : You need envy courtier's speech no longer; 
you have done even better. 

Richard : Then is the truth better, for this be the truth. 
Never before fancied I a maid and now my soul is 
filled with the counterfeit of one. Ah, dear, dear 
lady, thou art \Goes impetuously towards her.] 

Elizabeth : [Startled by his ardent manner, retires, 
courtesyiiig.] Elizabeth Cromwell. 

Richard : Cromwell's daughter — oh, I had forgotten — 
Cromwell's daughter. Why, of the daughters of all 
men, should you have been his daughter? It were 
better far had you been the poor serving-maid and 
not his daughter — not his daughter. 

Elizabeth: [Startled by his violence, but proudly.] 
What dishonor clings to my father's name? I am 
an honest man's child and am proud of it. 

Richard: [Recovering himself.] You misunderstand 
my meaning, I do assure you. How could one 
placed so low as I dare look with love upon the 
daughter of the highest in England? 

Elizabeth : I myself am but country bred, as you have 
said you were. 

Richard: But still the daughter of the ruler of Great 
Britain. I dare not. 

Elizabeth : I had held a better opinion of a soldier's 
courage. [IVith enthusiasm.] If I were a man, I 
would have been a soldier. Oh, to storm the ene- 
my's camp at the head of brave followers — swinging 
sword on high, to feel the joy and hear the shouts 



Act III. 69 

of victory, to return home crowned with glory — 
often have I Hved it in my dreams. A soldier's life 
for me ! 

Richard: [Earnestly.'] But it is not at all like that. 

Elizabeth : Not like that ! Well, what is it like then ? 

Richard: [With serious feeling.^ It is giving up all 
that graces life and brutalizing all better instincts ; it 
means endless marches through bi*oiling heat, rain, or 
. frost and snow; it means sickness without one to 
care for you ; it means burning villages, outrage, 
starvation, thirst, and in battle a murderous intent 
after the desire to run away has been fought down. 
It means lying deserted, perhaps, and wounded, 
suffering agonies of thirst and exposed to the ma- 
rauders who infest the battle-field. It is not a pretty 
picture, but a true one of a soldier's life. 

Elizabeth: [Thought fully and tears in her voice. ^ I 
did not understand. My father would never speak 
of it to me. 

Richard : You have a tender heart, dear lady, and if the 

true devotion of [Stopping himself. \ 'Twere 

a fool's paradise — and yet as I look on you, I could 
almost forget all — all. [Goes towar'd her.'\ 

Servant : [Enters main entrance, interrupting.'} A 
man named Perkins desires to see you, sir. His 
message requires haste, he says. 

Richard: Tell him I 

Elizabeth: [Going toward door Left.] I shall retire, 
I can no longer delay. Fare you well, Sir, and re- 
member, "Faint heart" [Courtesies and exits 

Left.] 

Richard: [To servant.] Admit the man. [Servant 
exits. Pacing back and forth.] My God, I love 
his daughter. The daughter of the man whom I 



70 Greater Than King. 

fought to destroy. What shall I do? I cannot 
strike at him with the love of his daughter within 
my heart, nor can I give myself to her hating the 
father. Oh, had I but not accepted this position, 
all this would have been spared me. {Throws him- 
self in chair Left, buries face in hands. Enter Am- 
brose in citizens attire; he touches Richard on 
shoulder. Richard starts and rises.] 

Ambrose: Are we unobserved here? Can I speak 
freely ? 

Richard : Yes. 

Ambrose : I have come at great risk to myself, as Lord 
Richmond has been seized, his papers which give 
important information as to our movements will fall 
into Cromwell's hands. The king's friends are 
closely watched, the net is drawn tighter every day. 
Neither can you hope to remain unrecognized more 
than a few days at the utmost. Wildhorse Dick's 
flight will be reported and you will be traced here. 
Some unforeseen accident may even expose you any 
moment. So far not one has conceived your bold 
act as possible. 

Richard: No doubt you are right. I should not have 
come here. 

Ambrose: We have but one chance now. If we fail, 
we must leave England to wait until a time of quiet 
has made the police and spies careless and less vigi- 
lant. 

Richard: What do you propose? 

Ambrose: We are well informed that after Cromwell's 
return from a ride, the guard that followed him re- 
turns to barracks and there is a brief time before 
the relief arrives. During this period the palace is 
almost unguarded. We shall ascertain the time of 
his return from one of his trips, which it is his cus- 



Act III. 7r 

torn to undertake on certain days, this being one of 
them. Bo you follow me? 

Richard: Yes, go on. 

Ambrose: A carriage shall be waiting near the rear en- 
trance. A few trusty men will enter the palace,, 
seize upon the Protector's person and take him 
away. The plan is certain of success, but someone 
inside the palace must admit us at the rear postern,, 
the only entrance that we can use unnoticed. 

Richard: And have you found someone? 

Ambrose: Yes, you must do it. 

Richard: I? And if you seize Cromwell and he re- 
sists desperately, what then? 

Ambrose: Then we will [Shrugging his shoul- 
ders.] He can only blame himself and perhaps it 
were best that way. 

Richard: And Cromwell secured, what follows then? 

Ambrose: Relays are posted to carry the news to the 
coast, and thence to the king in France. A rising is. 
prepared in the southern shores. Charles will be pro- 
claimed, and Cromwell once out of the way there- 
will be no organized resistance. Sh ! 

Anne: [Entering main entrance.] A letter, Richard, 
I was to place in your hands in confidence for de- 
livery. 

Richard: [Looks at address.] It is for you. Father. 
[To Anne, in low tone.] Do you not recognize; 
Father Ambrose? 

Anne: [Kneels and receives benediction; rises.] I did 
not in this garb. I trust that you are not venturing 
into danger, Richard. 

Richard: Fear not, dear Anne, you do not understand 
these matters. 



72 Greater Than King. 

Anne: I understand this much, that Cromwell and his 
kin have been exceeding kind to us and I would not 
see harm come to them. I like not these plots, little 
as I know of them. 

Richard: Have you forgotten our father's violent 
death, and what I undertook that night to do? 

Anne: I could never forget that night. 'Twas an aw- 
ful misfortune of war, a murder done, perhaps to 
avenge a private grudge. I have thought much 
about it and hold Cromwell blameless. 

Ambrose: \Who has been reading letter.] Your ten- 
der heart, daughter, inclines you to mercy; but you 
must leave these matters to men, to persons of ripe 
judgment. 

Anne: Willingly would I do so. Richard, dear broth- 
er, be not rash. I am very anxious for thee and 
have been these years, when thou hast ever been 
in danger. Good-night, Father. [Kneels for bcvie- 
diction; rises.] Good-night, dear brother. 

Richard: Good-night, my own dear sister. [Anne 
exits main entrance.] 

Ambrose: This letter from Lady Claire gives the in- 
formation desired, and supplies the link in the chain. 
Eight o'clock to-night is the appointed hour for 
Cromwell's return. As soon as he has entered his 
apartment you must admit us. 

Richard : I like not this work of night. Find someone 
else to do it. 

Ambrose: Impossible, would you hesitate now after 
seeking for all these years to destroy this man? If 
you fail us the opportunity is lost. If nothing else 
move you, I demand that you do this, demand it by 
your loyalty to the king. 



Act III. 73 

Richard: Never was man placed in position more dif- 
ficult. 

Ambrose: What has come over you, Richard. I fail to 
comprehend the change, but I must destroy this let- 
ter at once. I may be searched when going out. 
[Goes to table Left. Is about to burn letter when 
Treat enters from Right with lighted candelabrum 
and sets it on table Right. Ambrose hides letter under 
book on table Left. Treat goes to table Right, look- 
ing over papers.'] 

Ambrose: I must away now. The letter is hidden un- 
der the book on the table. Make sure you destroy 
it — the life and honor of a woman depend upon it. 
Remember, we depend on you. By all that is dear 
and sacred to you, I entreat you do not fail us in 
this hour. [Exits main entrance. Richard is about 
to take letter from under book.] 

Treat : There is one more letter to dispatch, and as he 
would not trust an ordinary messenger, his Excel- 
lency desires you to deliver same with his compli- 
ments. [Hands Richard letter and sits at table 
Right.] 

Richard: I will deliver it with all haste. [Makes sec- 
ond attempt to take letter when Duncan enters main 
entrance. Richard exits main entrance.'] 

Duncan: Where is his Excellency? I would speak to 
him. 

Treat: His Excellency has issued strict orders that 
he be not disturbed. 

Duncan : I am sure this night will be full of strange 
events. I have reports that a move will be made 
by the conspirators and orders have just been issued 
that all passing the guard shall be searched, leaving 
or entering the palace. 



74 Greater Than King. 

Treat: Ah, Duncan, what a deal you know. 

Duncan : This is all due to Oliver Cromwell's damnable 
leniency, or the conspirators would have fled the 
country or graced a halter ere this. He is no longer 
our God-inspired leader, nor a friend to godly men. 

Treat: I may not listen to such talk about his Excel- 
lency. 

Duncan : Remember this. Master Treat : Though I 
talk freely, I do my soldier's duty. I am on guard 
to- n i g h t. \^Exits main entrance. ] 

Treat: Well, well, my work is finished and not with 
undue haste, nor have I lingered over it more than 
care demanded. I will now to rest. \Goes to table 
Left, takes lamp and exits Right. The room is al- 
most quite dark. Richard enters cautiously main 
entrance, looks about and listens at door, takes 
lighted candelabrum, goes to table Left, looking for 
letter.'] 

Duncan : [Enters quietly at main entrance and stands 
watching Richard. As Richard is about to thrust 
the letter in flame of candle , Duncan aims pistol and 
says, ''Drop that!''] 

Richard: [Starts.] The life and honor of a woman 
depend upon it. [Thrusts letter in Uame, and holds 
it steadily. Duncan fires. Richard falls back into 
chair. Duncan takes letter from his hand. Enter 
quickly Cromzvell, Elisabeth, Treat (zuith lamp) 
and guard. Richard recovers himself and slowly 
rises, holding his hand to arm zvhere he is zvounded.] 

Cromwell: What means this? Speak, Richard. 

Duncan : Well may your Excellency ask. I warned 
you against this man, you cannot gainsay that. Look 
at him, there he stands. Look at him, sir, the traitor. 



Act in. 



75 




Act III. — E1.1ZABKTH Taking Lktter from Duncan. 

Here the proof of his damnable guilt, taken from 
his hand as he was about to destroy it. 

Cromwell: Give me the letter. [Is about to take letter 
from Duncan when Elizabeth steps betzveen and 
takes it.] 

Cromwell: Elizabeth, my daughter, what means this? 

Elizabeth: [In a low voice, eyes lowered.] Father, 
this letter is mine. 'Twas sent by me that Richard 
might come to meet me here. 

Cromwell: Elizabeth, my daughter, a traitor 

Elizabeth: No, father, not that [Cromwell looks 

long into Elizabeth's eyes, she into his and then 
lozvers hers. Cromwell holds out his hand for the 
letter, which Elizabeth slowly gives him. All are 
zvatching Cromwell as he looks at letter, especially 
Duncan.'] 

Cromwell: [His face showing to audience that he 
recognizes writing.] This is a matter of private 



76 Greater Than Kivg. 

import entirely. [Turning to Richard.] Informa- 
'tion has reached me, however, that you, Richard 
Maynard, are not free from suspicion as a plotter 
against the state^ therefore I decree that you be 
banished this country, and if found within this 
Commonwealth after four days from this, a price 
be on your head, and anyone may take your life 
without let or hindrance. Go, sir. [Turns to ta- 
ble. Richard goes and in passing stops before Elisa- 
beth as if to speak to her. She draws herself up 
and looks at him disdainfully. Richard drops his 
head in shame and exits slowly.'] 

'Cromwell: Leave me, all of you, except you my 
daughter. [Seats himself at table Right. After 
all are gone Elizabeth goes slowly to Cromwell.] 

Elizabeth: Father, what T said to you was false — I 
lied to save his life — yes, I lied, father. [Falls at 
CromwelVs feet.'\ I could not help it; something 
stronger than all else drove me to it. Father, fath- 
er, I lied because I loved him. Oh, father, forgive 
me. [Her arms on CromwelVs lap and head on her 
arms she cries and talks hysterically.'] 

Cromwell: [Stroking her hair.] My poor Bess, poor 
Bess, I understand. 

Elizabeth : Father — father, forgive me — forgive me. 
[Sobbing.] 

Cromwell : Ask forgiveness, child, of neither man nor 
woman. Pray God forgive us both. 



ACT IV. 

Scene : The garden front of Cromwell's house at Hunt- 
ingdon. The house stands across stage at rear. 
Rustic table, with chairs, at Left and large rustic 
bench at Right. 

Time: Eight days later; late in the afternoon. [At rise 
of curtain Treat is seated at table, taking notes.] 

Cromwell: [Dictating, and walking up and dozim.] 
To the keeper of the Tower, London, These : Sir : 
Your report I have received as to the capture of cer- 
tain conspirators. I also note that the disguised 
Jesuit priest, Ambrose, made good his escape. This 
matter I will see thoroughly investigated and shall 
demand strict accounting for. As to the other pris- 
oners recently taken, see that they be strictly 
watched. [Signs letter.'} 

Servant: [Entering from house.] Colonel Pendleton 
has but just arrived and desires speech with your 
Excellency. 

Cromwell: I will see him here now. [Servant exits 
into house. Cromwell to Treat.] Have you report 
from the secret police answering my inquiries as tO' 
Captain Duncan? 

Treat: An investigation has been made; here is the 
report. [Hands Cromwell paper.] 

Cromwell: [Reading.] H'm, h'm — a wild soldier — 
H'm, h'm — killed Sir John Maynard of Yorkshire — 
I will read this carefully. [Places letter in breast of 
coat. Enter Colonel Pendleton.] 



■yS Greater Tliaii Kmg. 

Cromwell: Ah, Colonel Pendleton, what news from 
the North? 

Pendleton : Good news, your Excellency. The last 
resistance has been crushed. Peace is established 
throughout the land. 

Cromwell: At last! God be thanked! And the lead- 
er, Wildhorse Dick, has been captured? 

Pendleton : [Hesitatingly.] Your Excellency, Captain 
Richard Maynard escaped to the South. 

'Cromwell: Escaped! [Violently.] Sir, I shall de- 
mand good reason for this. Did I not furnish you 
troopers in plenty? Yea, even more than you asked 
for, and you bragged that not one man should escape 
you — an empty boast indeed. Why am I not better 
served ? To let the leader himself pass even through 
our own country. What — [Stopping in his speech 
and thinking.] Captain Dick Maynard — Richard 
iMaynard — a singular coincidence of names — it could 
not be — and yet the very boldness of it. [To Pen- 
dleton.] This man called Wildhorse Dick ; describe 
him. 

Pendleton : A man of good height and figure, most 
easily recognized by his hair, the color of which is — 

Cromwell: [Quickly.'] Red. 

Pendleton : Yes, your Excellency. 

Cromwell: Tis the very man ! Ha — ha. Traveling dis- 
guised under his own name ! Ha — ha. The man 
fooled us well. He is to my liking. I could love 
the lad. [To Pendleton.] Leave us now and await 
further orders. [Pendleton bon's and exits into 
house. Cromzi'cll to Treat.] Know you aught as 
to Richard IMaynard? 

ruKAT: He was last seen entering Epping Forest. 



Act IV, 79 

Cromwell: Did you bid Lady Claire to meet me here, 
Master Treat ? 

Treat: Yes, your Excellency; she will be here within 
the hour. [Treat gathers up papers and goes into 
house. Enter Elisabeth from house.'] 

Cromwell: My daughter, thou lookest ill. Hast thou 
not rested well? [Both sit on bench Right.'] 

Elizabeth : Father, I am very, very tired. I rest not 
well; my sleep is troubled. 

Cromwell : Child, hast thou not laid thy burden be- 
fore thy God? He alone can comfort thee and 
grant thee peace. 

Elizabeth : Indeed, father, that have I tried to do ; 
most earnestly tried. [Pause. '\ To love a man 
without faith in him, it makes me deeply ashamed. 
Then at times I doubt the evidence of my senses 
and ask myself, *'Art thou sure that he be false, 
that he be a traitor?" And then, father, I would 
still have faith in him, and thus between love and 
faith and distrust and shame I waver. 

Cromwell: [Taking Elizabeth in his arms.] Let me 
assure thee, child, that in this, thy great trial, I would 
hold thee fast to my bosom. Weep, my daughter, 
resist not thy tears. I can offer naught but my 
most loving sympathy. I know not how nor why it 
was, but when thou wert s'till a babe and couldst 
not talk, and I entered the room, thou wouldst hold 
out thy tiny arms to me and crow lustily, and as a 
little toddler thou didst Hke best to walk with thy 
daddy in the country lanes and whilst my thoughts 
were on great things, thy childish prattle would follow 
me like unconscious music. Thou didst not fear the 
sternness of thy father's face, which kept off thy 
brothers and sisters, God knows I love them well, 
but through the rough shell, as if by subtle magic, 



So Greater TJiav Kijig. 

thy innocent eyes did look into my heart and thou 
didst nestle there content. Thus always hast thou 
been a dear companion to me, my tender, sweet, lit- 
tle Bess, and in the somber moods which oft op- 
press me, thy silent sympathy has brought me com- 
fort. I would not have thee suffer thus, dear child, 
my poor, poor Bess. 

Elizabeth : Father, I feel that I am but a wicked girl 
to thus distress thee ; I shall be brave, fear not. For 
am I not thy daughter and 'twere strange indeed 
had I not given to me a small part of thy great 
courage. Father, I will be brave. [Enter Anne 
from house.'] 

Cromwell : Anne is coming ; I leave you in her gentle 
care. Go thou and walk with her in the garden. 
[To Anne.] Good morning, Anne. 

Anne : Good morning, your Excellency. 

Cromwell: Within the hour I shall back to London^ 
but first I must to the river to see our tenant there. 
[To Anne.] Mind you, tend her well. [Elizabeth 
and Anne exit Right.] 

Cromwell: [Alone.] I pray thy tired spirit, child^ 
may soon find rest. [Enter Lady Claire from house.] 

Lady Claire : Your Excellency desires to speak with 
me? 

Cromwell: Yes. [As if absorbed.] 

Lady Claire: [Growing a little nervous.] And in 
what manner can I serve your Excellency? 

Cromwell: -Be seated, Lady Claire. [Lady Claire sits 
on bench Right. Cromzvell sits at table Left.] This 
is a rarely fine day. 

Lady Claire: Surely your Excellency did not bid me 
here to tell me that it be fine weather. 



Act IV. 8 1 

Cromwell: I fear my wits were wool-gathering. Are 
you content with us, Lady 'Claire? 

Lady Claire : All have been most kind to me, your Ex- 
cellency. 

Cromwell: And you do not wish to return to France? 

Lady Claire : 'Twere ungrateful to entertain such wish. 

Cromwell : There are those who would ingratiate them- 
selves with us but do not hesitate to visit our enemies 
in France. 

Lady Claire: [O/i guard. \ Such conduct were treach- 
ery indeed. 

Cromwell : As a friend 'twill please your ladyship to 
learn that the late conspiracies have failed and many 
of the conspirators have been seized. 

Lady Claire: May your Excellency's enemies meet just 
punishment. 

Cromwell : I am much puzzled as to the manner in 
which they obtained private information known only 
to a few members of our household. 

Lady Claire : Surely your Excellency knows, that serv- 
ants are often given to listening behind closed doors ; 
through some faithless servant your enemies may 
have gained knowledge. 

Cromwell : The servants cannot write and written in- 
formation has been given out. [Lady Claire does not 
anszver, a frightened look passes over her face, she 
pulls herself together.] 

Cromwell: Your ladyship is silent. 
Lady Claire : I have been thinking who might be cap- 
able of so dastardly an act. 

Cromwell: A person we would not have to go far to 
find, perhaps. [Pause.] But 'twere more important 
to us to find out to whom the information had been 
given. 



82 



Greater Than King. 



Lady Claire : I understand, your Excellency. 

Cromwell: [Taking paper from breast of coat.'] This 
list of names of the persons seized, found in Lord 
Richmond's possession, I would read to your lady- 
ship. 

Lady Claire: [Rising.] I fail to see to what purpose 
your Excellency would read these names to me. 

Cromwell: [Rising.'] It might appear that you had 
met one or the other in France and seen him about 
the palace. I will read the names. [Lady Claire 
braces herself. Cronmell pretends to consider paper, 
but zvatches Lady Claire.] I see now 'twere useless, 
they be but lowly people, such as you could not have 




Act IV. — Ckomwkll and Lady Ci^airk. 



Act IV. 83 

met. \Lady Claire looks relieved. After pause.] 
Excepting one or two. [Lady Claire again anxious.] 
There is the Jesuit priest, Father Ambrose. [Lady 
Claire starts.] A bold and able man he was, but he 
swore he would not be taken alive, resisted arrest and 
is [Pauses. ] 

Lady Claire: [Staring wildly at Cromwell] Dead! 

Cromwell: [Smiling grimly.] I said not so. [Looks 
at Lady Claire, who stares at him. Then, as if to 
himself.] I have found the man. Lady Claire 'tis you 
who gave the information to our enemies and con- 
spired against us in our very household. You be- 
lieved to blind us with fulsome flattery to the treach- 
ery you practiced. Had you but so low an opinion 
of our intelligence? 

Lady Claire: [Kneels.] Do with me as you will, I care 
not. Tell me only this — Ambrose, is he dead ? 

Cromwell : Your ladyship did not permit me to finish. 
He resisted arrest and is now in France, having made 
good his escape. [Smiling grimly.] 

Lady Claire: Oh — I — I — [Controls herself by great 
effort.] Your Excellency, I am in your power. 

Cromwell : Lady Claire I guessed the motive of your 
conduct ; I could have your life, but wish it not — go 
back to France. 

Lady Claire : Your Excellency would let me go free ? 

Cromwell: Yes [Lady Claire goes tozvard him.] 

I would not be thanked — go now. 

Lady Claire: I [Tries to speak but cannot; slozvly 

exits into hoitse.] 

Cromwell: [Looks after Lady Claire.] An interesting 
woman. I would fain have kept her here. Her life 
I would not take, and to hold such a woman prisoner 
would require truly a staunch jailor — ha, ha. [Exits 
Left.] 



84 Greater T/ia/i King. 

Elizabeth : [Enters with Anne from Right. [Let 
us rest here, dear Anne. [They sit on bench 

Right.] I liked thee from the first. Thine eyes are 
true and faithful. They are like thy brother's — but 
no, I would not speak of him. [Elizabeth rises.] 

Anne: [Rising.] Let me speak of him, Elizabeth. 
Elizabeth : Stop Anne ; I will not listen. If thou vai- 
nest my friendship, do not speak to me of him again. 

Anne : Dear EHzabeth, I can but speak of him. [Enter 
Barbara from Right.] 

Barbara : Good day to you, ladies. [Elisabeth runs into 
Barbara's arms.] Ah, my dear young lady, where 
are the roses in your cheeks.'^ Come, dearie, sit 
beside me, and rest your head upon my breast. 
[Elizabeth and Barbara sit 0/1 boich, Anne sits at 
table Left.'l 

Elizabeth : Oh, nursie, you are so good to me ; your 
kindness makes me soft and I would be strong and 
brave now. 

Barbara : Oh, my poor dearie, my poor dearie. 

Elizabeth : [i^/^-Z/io-.] Do not pity me, for God's sake, 
do not pity me ; I want no one's pity. [After a 
pause.] Tell me, dear nursie, what has happened of 
late at the inn ? 

Barbara : Well, we see many folk coming and going, 
but there is little news now ; the country is so quiet. 
Let me see if I cannot think of aught to entertain 
you. 

Elizabeth : Do, nursie dear. 

Barbara : Yesterday a strolling troupe of players passed 
through. The people were desperately poor. These 
times have been hard on player folk. 

Elizabeth : I remember seeing once enacted a play, 
written by a man named Shakespeare, it was called 



Act IV. 85 

Romeo and Juliet. 'Tis a very sad tale of unfor- 
tunate love, but the words were full of rare beauty 
and touched us all deeply. Have you naught else to 
tell about, nursie? 

Barbara : A week ago a man came to the inn, wounded 
and sick, and out of his senses with the fever. He 
half wore a white wig as disguise. I took him in 
and nursed him. 

Elizabeth : My tender-hearted Barbara. 

Anne : And was the man unknown to you ? 

Barbara: I had seen him but once before. 
Anne: You are a kind-hearted soul, to be so good to a 
man a stranger to you. 

Elizabeth : Thou wouldst not wonder, Anne, if thou 
didst know Barbara as well as I. 

Barbara : He was a fine looking gentleman. 

Elizabeth: [Playfully.^ Ah, Barbara, Barbara, 'twas 
ever a handsome face that could catch you, and I vow 
it was for his good looks that you did take him in. 

Barbara : [^Rising first, then Elizabeth and Anne.\ Stop 
your teasing, child ; the poor man suffered not from 
the wound and fever alone, but from some deep 
trouble of the soul. 

Anne: Poor man, poor man. 

Barbara: Yesterday morning he opened his wide eyes 
and for the first time they looked at me clearly, and 
rested long upon me, until I felt most creepy, and 
then he said, so strange-like, ''Thou art Barbara, 
who keeps the inn near Huntingdon," and I said, ''At 
your service, Sir," and then, strangest of all, he said, 
"Art thou not the friend of Elizabeth Cromwell?" 

Elizabeth: [Startled.'] He did say that ? 

Barbara : And I said to the gentleman, "Not so much 



86 Greater Than Kifi 



<i) 



honor for me, but I was the lady's nurse, and love 
her well. She be now at Huntingdon." 

Elizabeth.: [Excitedly.^ Barbara, tell me instantly, 
who is the man? 

Barbara : Be not so impatient, child ; wouldst spoil 
my story? 

Elizabeth: Thou art but torturing me. Speak, Bar- 
bara, I demand of thee, who is this man ? 

Barbara : I know not his name, but he is the one on 
whom you waited in your mad prank that day at the 
inn. 

Elizabeth : Richard Maynard. 

Anne : My brother ! 

Barbara : [To Elizabeth.^ Dear Lady, 'twas your name 
that was ever on his lips as he lay there burning with 
fever, and he asked me to beg of you that you see 
him, so he might speak of what weighs upon his 
mind. 

Anne : Dear Elizabeth, grant my brother this. 

Elizabeth : No more of this, Barbara ; and you, too, 
Anne, if you would not both anger me. [Richard en- 
ters from Right. He appears very weak. He wears 
a white zvig and cloak as disguise, which he takes off 
as he enters, and when he sits places them on table 
Left.] 

Anne : | Runs to Richard and supports him.'] My poor, 
dear brother. 

Barbaba : Why did you leave the inn. Sir. [Anne and 
Barbara assist Richard to chair Left.] 

Richard: Peter, returning from the village, reported a 
troop of horse halting there and overheard that they 
were bound for the inn. I feared they would search 
the place, and not knowing where else to go, I came 



Act IV. 87 

here. \Rises — to Elisabeth.] I could not flee from 
England without first seeing you. I would tell you 
the truth about that miserable night. 

Elizabeth : I cannot listen to you ; presume not upon 
what I did, I would have done the same for another. 
What matters it what I think of you? [Change of 
tone.'] Do not tarry, the troopers may follow you 
here — go, go. 

Richard : I will not go until you have heard me ; rather 
would I die. Do you think my life worth living? 
That night, after leaving the palace, I stopped at a 
friend's house who urged upon me the disguise I wore 
but now ; then I sought safety in the forest. I wan- 
dered in the woods until with pain and utter weari- 
ness, I sank upon the ground, but not to rest. My 
feverish fancy was filled with hideous forms that 
mocked me and called me — "Spy, traitor," and the 
burning scorn of your eyes did penetrate my brain 
with hideous anguish until I would cry out in my 
sleep, and thus rouse myself to suffering wakeful- 
ness — for the grim outlines of the forest trees as- 
sumed living shapes that drew nearer and nearer to- 
me, crying, ''Spy, traitor." The night passed, I know 
not how, and as the morning dawned and life woke 
and with it all the voices of the forest, they too, 
seemed to call me "Spy, traitor." I wandered on, not 
knowing where, but with a burning thought that I 
must find you somewhere, that I might justifv my- 
self. 

Elizabeth : I can listen no longer ; stop, stop — go be- 
fore they come and find you here — oh, go. 

Anne : Listen to him, Elizabeth, I beg of you. 

Barbara : I will see that no one enters. [Barbara exits- 
Right.] 

Elizabeth : Oh, what would my father think of me ? 



88 Greater TJian Kino;. 



Richard: Then for his sake hsten to me. ^S'lmply.^ 
Once did I save his Hfe. 

Elizabeth : I will listen. \S'\ts at table Left.'] 
Richard: Ten years ago I fought witli Prince Rupert 
on Marston moor against the Farliamfiit; 1 was a 
mere beardless boy then. Fleeing from the field, 
some of Cromwell's troopers pursued me to my 
father's house, and while I was in hiding, seized upon 
that dear old man and shot him. 

Elizabeth: [7?/^//io-.] Oh! 

Richard : I would have followed the rascals, but Father 
Ambrose showed me the folly of it and implored me 
to avenge my father's death by striking down Crom- 
well. Since that time I have fought the Parliament 
until all resistance failed, and 'twas then on my way 
to France I met you. 

Elizabeth : Yes, at Barbara's inn ; go on. 

Richard : You know how I entered your father s serv- 
ice. 'Twas unwillingly I did so, but urged by Father 
Ambrose I consented. A conspiracy was on foot to' 
seize your father. I was asked to admit the conspir- 
ators to the palace ; implored to do it 1)y my loyalty 
to the king. I fought against that demand. 

Barbara: [Entering from Right.] They are coming, 
you must leave at once. 

Elizabeth : You cannot flee, it is too late. Assume 
your disguise and go into the house. 

Richard: [Putting on disguise.] I would rather leave 
the place at any risk than bring you trouble. [Anne 
and Barbara forcing Richard info house] 

Elizabeth : Go quickly ; they dare not injure Cromwell's 
daughter. [Richard enters house.] 

Barbara : They come. 
L«fC. 



Aa IV. 89 

Duncan : ^Entering zvith four troopers. His entire ap- 
pearance denotes mental aberration.] A fugitive 
from justice is hidden somewhere about here, Mis- 
tress EHzabeth, have you seen him? 

EiJZABETH : Cromwell's house were a strange place, for- 
sooth, for a fugitive to hide about. You will have 
to look elsewhere. [To Barbara.'] Quick, go bring 
my father; he went toward the river. [Barbara exits 
Left.] 

I>UNCAN : Our hounds have tracked the man here from 
the inn, and hereabout he must be. Men, enter the 
house and search it. 

Ejuzabeth : [Standing on steps of house.] Soldiers, in 
Cromwell's, my father's name, 1 forbid you search- 
ing the house. He will be here presently, and to him 
will I be answerable. 

OuNCAN : Mind not the girl, but obey your orders, men. 

Ejuzabeth : This is my father's ground and once more 
I, his daughter, command that you retire. 

IhiNCAN : Thy father not here, I owe allegiance to no 
one ; but he himself will not much longer command 
the faithful, for he is not the man who once led us 
against the Ammonites and Moabites, but has become 
a traitor to the cause of the Lord. 

Elizabeth.: [Descends from steps.] How dare you 
speak thus of my father. Leave on this instant, for 
should he return and hear you, you would find good 
reason to repent your bold words. 

Duncan : I would speak as freely to him as to you, for 
I dare anything in the Lord's service, for he has 
<:hosen me to be his prophet in Israel. 

Elizabeth : Thou art a wicked blasphemer. 

Duncan:: God's voice is speaking through me. 

• . J 



90 



Greater Tliaii Kim 



Elizabeth : It is not God's voice ; the evil spirit has 
taken possession of you, Duncan. 

Duncan : Thou child of Belial, darest thou accuse the 
anointed of the Lord. Beware or his wrath will 
descend upon thee. 




ACT IV.— Duncan and Emzakkth. 

Elizabeth : Oh that my father were here to chastise 
thee for thy presumption. 

Duncan : I fear him no longer, he is a man fallen from 
grace. 

Elizabeth: You would judge my father! Why, you 
are not worthy to lace his shoe strines. 



Aa IV. 9r 

Duncan : Beware woman, that I be not compelled to lay- 
violent hands on you. 

Elizabeth: Stop, man, you are mad. [Richard enters- 
from house, remains on steps.] 

Duncan : Aye, mad I may be, but clearly I see the faith- 
ful have been too long patient. Their time has come 
and their flaming sword shall slay all but the true be- 
lievers. Woe to those false men and hypocrites who 
would make peace with the soldiers of Anti-Christ. 
They shall all wither in the furnace of His wrath. 
Ah, clearly I see now 'tis my mission. Thou art thy 
father's favorite child, through thee would the Lord 
strike him, and I, Duncan, His prophet, am CdUed to 
be His executioner. Prepare thyself, for thou must 
die. [Drazi^s a dagger and is about to throzv himself 
upon Elizabeth zuhen Richard, unarmed, steps be- 
tzveen them. He has on the zvhite z^ig and the cloak 
he has zvorn as a disguise, and resembles greatly in 
appearance and attitude his father, as he stood before 
Duncan in Act I.] 

Richard : Stand back ! 

Duncan: [Stares.] Sir John Maynard ! Oh! I did. 

hot 1 did not kill — I — [He gasps, clutches at 

his heart and totters backzsuard. Tzvo soldiers catch 
him and assist him out at Right.] 

Richard: [Turning to Elizabeth.] Why did he call my 
father's name.? {Takes off disguise. 1 

Elizabeth : I do not understand. He looked as if he 
saw a fearful apparition. 

Richard: [To Anne.] Go thou, dear Anne, follow the 
soldiers, and warning give should they venture on 
return. [Anne exits, zvith a smile and a look full 
of meaning at Richard and Elizabeth. Richard, after 
a moment's pause, to Elizabeth.'] Is there aught, 
else you would know of me, dear lady? 



92 Greater Tlian Kwg. 

Elizabeth : I were ungrateful now, indeed, to doubt 
your loyalty ; still would I know as to the letter you 
were about to destroy that night. 

Richard: Ah, yes — that letter {Hesitates.^ 

Elizabeth : Well ! 

Richard : Believe me, the letter was not mine, but 
left in trust with me by one who charged me to de- 
stroy it to save a woman's life and honor. More I 
may not say. 

Elizabeth : And you were ready to sacrifice your life 
for a woman who was nothing to you? 

Richard : 'Twas a sacred trust, and perhaps my new 
love had made me tender of woman. \Is silent.] 

Elizabeth : And is that all you would say to me ? 

Richard : No, this more would I say before I leave you, 
perhaps never t® look upon your face again. I did 
not seek my place in your father's service and I had 
bitterly hated him, but growing to understand his 
greatness and the depth of his generous nature, I 
have learned to honor him ; and one thing more-^I 
love you, Elizabeth Cromwell. T shall always love 
you. 

Elizabeth : Oh, could I be but sure. 

Richard : I believed at one time that T was not indififer- 
ent to you, but 

Elizabeth: Do you remember what I once said to you 

about faint heart 

Richard : Elizabetli, vou — vou — don't mean 



Elizabeth : \_A?xhly.] I mean that the saying is as true 

now as it was a week ago. 
Richard: Elizabeth! [Goes tozvard her. ~\ 
Elizabeth: No, no! [She evades hivi.] 
Richard: I never loved woman but thee. 



Act IV. 93 

Elizabeth: Ah, you forget Bet, the serving-maid. 

Richard : Oh, I loved but thee in her. When didst thou 
first love me? [Goes to her; she evades him again.'] 

Elizabeth : When did I ever say I loved thee and how 
canst thou thus presume? 



Act IV. — Elizabeth and Richard. 
Richard: Then say so now. [Takes Elizabeth's hand. 1 
Elizabeth : Well — I — 
Richard : Go on, go on. 
Elizabeth : Oh, how beautiful the day ! 
Richard : The day is fine, but thou hast not said it. 



94 Greater Than King. 

Elizabeth : Not said what ? 

Richard : I love thee. 

Elizabeth: I know thou dost. 

Richard: Ah, thou shalt not escape me. Now say: 
Richard 

Elizabeth : Richard 

Richard : I 

Elizabeth : I 

Richard : Love thee. 

Elizabeth : Of course, my knight, with all my heart 
I love thee truly. \As they embrace Cromwell enters 
and observes them, smiling grimly.^ 

Cromwell : Elizabeth ! [Richard and Eli^^abeth start 
apart. \ 

Elizabeth: [Throwing herself in her father's arms.'] 
Oh, Father! Father! 

Crom\\'ell: [To Richard.] What means this, why are 
you here? 

Richard : Having o'erstayed my allotted time I surren- 
der myself to you. 

Elizabeth : Father, he has but now saved my life, stepr 
ping unarmed between me and Duncan, who would 
have slain me in wild frenzy. As Duncan looked 
upon him, disguised, he called on Richard's father, 
clutched at his heart and fell in a sudden faint. 

Anne: [Enters.] Your Excellency. Captain Duncan 
has just died. 

Cromwell: Wonderful are Thy ways, oh Lord! [To 
Richard.] You saved my daughter's life, Sir, as 
well as my own. I thank you with a father's deepest 
love. In common gratitude I can but grant you free- 
dom. 



Act IV. ^ 95 

Richard: But before I accept aught at your hands, I 
would have you know, Sir, who I am. 

Cromwell: I know. You are Richard Maynard. 

Richard : Yes, but 

Cromwell : Son of Sir John Maynard in Yorkshire. 

Richard: [Astottndcd.] Your Excellency — your knowl- 
edge 

Cromwell: The bold colonel of Dick Maynard's wild 
horse, called Wild Horse Dick. 

Richard: [Confounded.] I have no more to say, your 

Excellency. 

» 

Cromwell : This Captain Duncan, now dead, I have 
learned of late was the brutal soldier who murdered 
your father. 

Richard: Now I understand. 

Elizabeth : [To CromzvelL] And I would have a word 
now, father. 

Cromwell: Well, daughter. 

Elizabeth : I have but this to say : Richard, he loves 

me, and I, father, I [Looks down shyly and 

hides her face against her father's breast.] 

Cromwell: A free confession, Bess, but hardly a sur- 
prise to me. Richard Maynard, you are a man of 
good family, but above all, a true man yourself. Into 
no man's keeping would I rather give my daughter. 
Go now, rest and regain your strength. You shall 
join our navy. This late corlspiracy forgotten, then 
may you return and claim your love. [Elizabeth in 
CromzvelFs arms, Richard goes to Anne.] 

[The End.] 



APR 10^90\ 




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'earborn Theatre, Chicago, 



COPYRir.HTED IWl 




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